A Little Less Sixteen Candles A Little More Fanfic
by Yellowfur
Summary: A fic based on the story in the video for Fall Out Boy's A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me. After they get arrested. Rated T for swearing and other stuff. Review or the Punk vampire group will cry. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Fall Out Boy (duh), Pete Wentz (duh), or the video this is inspired by.**

**What's up, people? This is my first fic based on the story in a music video. It's based on Fall Out Boy's vampire centered "A Little Less Sixteen Candles, A Little More Touch Me".**

**It starts out a little dark, but it gets slightly more comical, at the part when my brother (who is my co-writer on this story) stepped in.**

**Enjoy the vampiric Pete Wentz!**

Chapter 1: Cell

Cell. Chamber. Small room. Whatever it was, Pete sure didn't like being in it. He looked over at the large window at the center wall, bleeding out sunlight.

_Sun hurts._

Sun does hurt. He agreed with his thoughts. At least it did now, now that he was…one of them. The ones he hunted, yet belonged to.

_Belonged to... _Ugh, it hurt to think about it. Pete looked up and at the sunlight from the window, inching closer to his feet.

_Need to get out. Need to get out! Before something bad happens. Have to get out, have to free the others…need freedom. Need blood._

His entire body seemed to pulse with that last thought. Pete sighed, brought his knees up to his torso, and sighed again, putting his head down. _You're pathetic. Brooding and sighing instead of thinking of a way out. Pathetic. Weak..._

"Hey! Pete! Can you hear us?" A voice rang out form down the hall of the mostly empty prison cells.

Pete ignored the voice. He ignored the voices of his best friends; they brought back the past too much. When they were happy, before any of this chaos interfered. Before the vampires ran the town in their own twisted way, before _he _became one, too.

"Hey Pete, what's your cell like? Ours' don't have toilets…"

"SHUT UP!" Pete screamed, smacking the bars so they rang like a gong. One bar in particular wobbled more than a little. Pete noticed this, and it struck him as odd.

"Hey assholes, shaddup in there! I'll bite the lot of ya if it'l keep ya quiet!" The portly, vampiric guard looked up from his _Naked Goth Virgins _magazine so he could better scream at the captive vigilantes.

"Hey, vampiric guard," Patrick yelled back. "What's with your accent? You sound like a retarded, fat, Midwestern… I don't know, rent-a-cop or something."

"I **was** a fat, Midwestern jailor before I got bitten. I wanted to go around biting young women in their own beds, but noooooo… The Baron decided I should stay at my current job, and keep vampire hunters in their cell until their 'trials'… the trials are all fixed anyway…"

Pete convulsed at the thought of The Baron. As head of The Dandies, the most powerful gang in town, he basically had become dictator of the town. The remaining 45 of the residents that were still human (the rest were turned, or had escaped) lived in fear: they put garlic on their bedposts, hung crosses from locked doors and windows, and they never _ever_ went out at night. Yet there were still killings and turnings. Holy water was in short supply, as one priest had skipped town, and the other was now a high-ranking member of The Dandies.

Pete dozed off, thinking dark and hateful thoughts.

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**I'm explaining some terms I used in my story now. For any of you that saw the video, you would probably remember the fancy-looking fedora-wearing vampire group. I heard in the "Making of the Video" episode of this video, that their names were the Dandies. I know, weird, but I didn't make the video. The Baron is what my brother and I have decided to call the head of the Dandies, you know, the one Pete seems to...er...rather dislike.**

**FYI, Pete is the bassist of the band and played the vampiric vigilante in the video. Patrick is the lead singer. Andrew, I think is the drummer.**

**And of course you might know the superstitions I used about repelling vampires with crosses, holy water, garlic, and all that jazz.**

**Byebye.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own none of the characters within. 'Cept for Rent-A-Cop.**

**Hmm...beware. Pete's going to go through lots of physical pain. Pai-ai-ain.**

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Pete awoke slowly. He didn't awake because he was done sleeping; he was still tired. His body and brain slowly came to.

_Oww…what hurts?_

He realized within seconds that the minor pain in his waking body was feeling was getting more significant, until it became a fiery, burning pain shooting throughout his body when he had fully awoken.

He looked up and, with a jolt, realized that it was morning and sunlight was shining through. Not only that there was sunlight bleeding through the wide window, but that he had been lying in it probably for a couple of hours.

Pete jumped back and yelped. Moving made the burning worse. He began frantically rubbing his arms and legs, trying to rid himself of some of the burn. The fiery feeling felt like it was mostly underneath the skin, as his outer layer of skin looked…refreshed. Almost as if it was thanking him for giving it a moment of sun.

The jailer strolled by down the hall, laughing jolly enough to show off his sharp teeth, similar to Pete's.

"Hey…" a groggy voice called from down the hall. "What's going on?"

The guard ignored him and went back into his little room with his little magazine, laughing once again at Pete's misfortune.

"Are you, like, okay?" Andrew called to Pete. "You sounded…pained."

"It's nothing," he growled back.

"Didn't sound like nothing…" Patrick put in.

"I agree with Patrick." Joe said.

"Back off!" Pete replied, growing frustrated.

"Shut up!" all the noise brought the guard back off. "Shut up, all you little runts!"

The pain gone, Pete was now enraged. Half of it was from being contained too long in a cell, not knowing what his fate was yet. The other half probably had something to do with going too long without the "mixture" that kept his blood lust at bay. He jumped at the bars. "Let us out, god damn it!"

The guard seemed surprised at his outburst. The others down the hall did, too. The guard, nevertheless, regained his composure in an instant. "Aw shut it, punk!"

Pete responded by kicking the bars and shouting out again. "LET US GO!"

"SHUT UP!" the jailer decided that enough was enough, and opened the cell door and slammed it behind him. He grabbed Pete and threw him down, holding him down in the now bright, mid-morning sunlight. Pete howled in pain.

"Yeah, hurts, don't it?" the guard laughed (even though his own hand was hurting from being exposed to sunlight), and ignored the calls of rage and protest from the other boys down the hall.

Pete struggled to get out of the guard's grip, and after a minute just shot up and bit him on the hand. It worked, the guard jumped back in pain and Pete quickly rolled out of the sunlight, panting.

Andrew spoke up. "Hey Rent-a-cop, you can't just go and-"

"Shut your mouth!" Pete interrupted. Then he mumbled to himself, "Don't want anything bad to happen…"

"Listen to the weird kid, ya vampire-huntin' punks. And stop calling me 'Rent-a-cop'!" He grumbled. "If ya didn't still have ta go on trial, I wouldda sucked you bone dry by now!" The bothered "cop" went to sit back down.

"Are you going to feed us?" Joe asked the jailor.

"Maybe," the guard put his head down on his desk. He was clearly getting tired.

"If we die, our families might sue."

"Like they'll ever find your bodies,"

"Our friends would sue, too!"

"Do you even have friends?"

"…touche'."

"We'll never get to this so-called 'trial'!" Patrick put in.

"We'll move on," the guard was getting sleepy.

"Can I have my rapier?" Andrew asked.

"…no…" the guard eventually just fell asleep in boredom.

"Wow!" Patrick said, amazed at the fast doze. "That's convenient!"

"But I am hungry…" Andrew said.

"I am too…" Pete said.

Joe pretended to gasp. "Oh my _god!_ Did you hear that, guys? He can _speak!_ Thank the heavens!" he said sarcastically with fake surprise and enthusiasm.

Pete ignored him. "Damn it, we need to get out…" he held his head, feeling more and more like the thing he wanted most was blood every minute. It disgusted him.

_Need that freaking mixture…_

Pete walked over to the cell door and started absentmindedly half-kicking it. The bar rang and wobbled again, causing the 'cop' to mutter about virgin sacrifices and snore loudly.

_This bar is so loose, and _annoying._ I should pull it out just to shut… it… up? Oh, duh!_ Using the strength boost vampirism and ravenous hunger had given him; he easily tore the loose bar from its hole. The sound of cracking concrete, however, roused the guard, who sat bolt upright. "Not much of a guard, are you, tubby?" Pete laughed cruelly as he stepped through the gap, twirling the broken piece of carbon steel like as staff.

"I'm goin' ta make ya wish ya never died, freak!" The guard pulled a crossbow and several long, specially notched wooden stakes from a rack on the wall. He took several potshots, but as Pete charged he barely managed to nick the hood on Pete's sweatshirt.

"Let's see if I can stake you with this!" Pete yelled, and tried. Thanks to his momentum, he crushed the 'cop' into the jailhouse wall and kept going. The blunt bar slid between the vampiric jailor's ribs, pierced his heart, went through the ribs on the other side, and finally stuck in the wall. It wasn't wood or silver, so it didn't slay him, but the guard could only writhe in pain, and try to squirm 7 feet to the edge of the pole that wasn't stuck in the wall. He gurgled in agony, dark blood dripping from his lips.

Pete spied a thermos by the guard's desk, and looked in. It was still half-full of reasonably fresh human blood. He chugged it down, and tossed it away. Then he grabbed the key ring from the painfully protesting jailor and unlocked his friends. "It's okay, I'm not thirsty anymore, I'm fine."

"Oh, that's nasty!" Joe said, turning a bit green.

They grabbed their stuff off the weapon rack, snapping a cell phone picture of the 'cop's' tortured state, and Patrick gathered up the stakes and the crossbow for studying and possible use. "Bye-bye, 'Rent-a-Cop'," he laughed, walking out the door.

"Thanks for the crossbow, 'Rent-a-Cop'," Joe added jokingly.

"Thank you for letting us stay the night, 'Mr.-a-Cop'," Patrick said in a mockingly kind tone.

Pete just wobbled the bar on his way out, causing the cop to cough up blood.

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**My brother wrote the short action sequence...well, it's time to move on. Next chapter, The Baron makes an appearance! Yes, yes, oh yay. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own FOB or this video. If you don't know that by now, you're slow.**

**BEHOLD! The Baron and all his The Baron-ness-ocity! Hmm...did I go overboard on making him proper and British? But he _is _the leader of a group called the Dandies! Heh...he calls him "Peter".**

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The warehouse door opened. Pete walked in first to the strange place him and his friends called home. It was a warehouse-type place where people would normally rent space (especially for appliances). Pete and his crew had "redecorated" it to fit their likings. One thing included that for safety reasons, only one of the metal garage doors opened at all.

He thought that he and his crew would be able to relax for a night, and not worry about vampire-hunting for at least another 12 hours. This thought vanished though as soon as they made it inside. When Pete saw who had beaten them to their dwellings, it made his fists clench in rage.

"You're late," the prim and proper voice called from inside. "I seriously expected you to be here long ago," The Baron sat on one of the old couches in the makeshift living room, sipping on (what else but) tea, mixed with cream, sugar, and the purest AB blood.

"I mean, what with the wobbly bar and all…" The Baron said pretending to be thoughtful. Pete was doing all he could to keep from just tackling the Baron head on at that second.

The Baron put on a disappointed look. "After all…I did bite _you_ personally, Peter. I expect something better."

Pete clenched his fists harder and smiled. "You should know, no one calls me _Peter!_" He was about to charge towards The Baron if his friends hadn't held him back.

"Oh, and another thing…" The Baron stood up slowly. "I believe I recognize the _horrid _smell of garlic…" The Baron made a face. "Are you trying to build up a resistance to garlic? I also notice your perpetual wearing of hooded sweatshirts. Do you honestly think that will protect you from the sun, my boy?" The Baron stepped closer. "You can't change what you are with fruit shakes and hoodies. You can't change what _I _made you!"

Andrew stepped in, twirling his rapier. "He hasn't yet become whatever you were trying to make him, Baron-"

"Please, call me _The Baron_."

"-But he isn't going to start now! Let's see how you like getting a proper, British sword shoved through your proper, British chest!" Andrew stabbed into The Baron's heart… or at least, the spot where The Baron had been a quarter-second before. He pulled the rapier from the sofa, and The Baron's jacket, which was still there. Confused, Andrew looked at his rapier; catching a glimpse of movement, he frantically turned around.

Too late. With a simple swat, The Baron launched him over the couch, and Andrew landed crumpled at the bottom of the wall on the other side. The Baron broke the sword over his knee. "Well, I've enjoyed this little tête-à-tête, but I simply must get myself dinner and return home before sunrise. You may keep the teacup and jacket, and, Peter? You can't hide who you really are. Ciao." He walked into the kitchen, and when Pete followed, he was gone.

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"I need a new rapier…" Andrew said, mostly to himself, while inspecting his now halved rapier. "At least it wasn't the _good _rapier."

"The silver one, you mean?" Pete asked while drinking the blend. "With the cross-shaped handle?"

"Yeah, the one that almost made you beat the shit out of me when I got it."

"I came closer to doing so when you got pissed one day and suggested a spritzer bottle of holy water for 'taming'."

"That was funny, your eyes bugged out…" Patrick said while tinkering at some type of netting gun.

"Yeah, whatever," Pete climbed into his coffin-bed. "I'm going to sleep."  
"Uh…don't you want to search for The Baron or something? Like a trace or a clue as to where he is?"

"Not right now."

Joe looked over at him, surprised. "'Not right now'? Are you high?"

"No. Tired. Going to bed." He lay down and called out before closing the coffin-bed, "When The Baron wants to talk to me again, he'll find me."

"Is that a safe attitude?" Patrick asked.

"_You_ want to go searching for him?"

Patrick didn't respond.

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Pete awoke to tapping on his coffin. He covered his ears. Ignoring it did no good, and the tapping continued.

"Damn it, guys! I'm not getting up yet! Go away!"

"Do open up, Peter."

Pete's blood ran cold.

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**BOO!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing within, except for The Baron's name (don't own the actual character). I am neen-ja!**

**Okay...yeah, I got nothing to say. The story will do the talking. So read. And REVIEW.**

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Pete covered his head with both arms. 

_I'm dreaming…it's just another nightmare…just pinch yourself and wake up…_

"My boy, you aren't going to make matters better by hiding so…" the coffin swung open. "Open up!" The Baron laughed evilly.

Pete slowly rose out of the coffin. "God, I swear, if you did anything to other guys I'll…" Pete paused when he had risen completely. "…I'm…not in the warehouse."

"Very good, Peter! Maybe next you'll tell me your gender or hair color, perhaps?"

"I'm afraid to ask, but…" Pete looked around. "Where are my friends?"

"They barely know you're gone, Peter!"

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Andrew stood with his arms crossed and his head cocked. "Heeeyyy…Patrick…"

"Yeah?" Patrick called from the kitchen.

"Wasn't Pete's coffin-thingy, like, right here?"

"Yeeeeaaahhh…"

"Well…did he, uh…relocate?"

"Yyyy-no."

Joe walked in. "Well, it's not…here."

"…uh…whaa?"

"Not here. There's even a pale little outline where it was." Joe commented.

"Cool!" Andrew looked at closer. "Wait…that's not good! That's not good, right Patrick?"

"…that would be classified as 'not good'."

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Pete just sat with his mouth half-open. "Yeah, I bet right now Joe and Andrew are standing staring at the pale little outline where my coffin was and Patrick won't know what to make of it. He'll be saying 'uh' and stuff." Pete's eyes widened suddenly. "HEY! How did you get the coffin out without anyone noticing? INCLUDING ME!"

"Unlike you and your jackass chums, I do things stealthily." The Baron insulted. "There's something I wanted to discuss, about Millard, who you've met before."

"Don't think so," Pete stood up and stepped out of the coffin cautiously, looking around at the Victorian-decorated, windowless household.

"You impaled him, Peter."

"Oh, right…Rent-A-Cop?"

"Yes, you should know it took us an hour to remove him. Tell me, my boy, why do you insist on attacking those of your own kind so viciously?"

Pete scowled at him. "Because I didn't want to be 'your kind'! I didn't want anything to do with vampires or whatever! When you started to take over the town, the others and I were just going to skip town like everyone else! Then _you _caught me on the way out!" Pete shouted in anger.

"Yes, and it is very obvious that 'the others' did a splendid job on protecting you, didn't they?" The Baron put both hands on his cane.

Most of Pete's anger turned into confusion. "What…do you mean?"

"Those bothersome humans that you call your 'friends' appear to just be holding you back, Peter. You have much inner strength, yet you devote so much of the little you let loose to protecting other humans, protecting your friends, and fighting other vampires. Such a pity! If you join my group, your strength will be discovered fully, it will know no bounds!" The Baron stepped closer to Pete. "And you would look so much better if you just combed your hair."

Pete contorted his face into a look of disgust and jumped back. "Quit trying to convince me to join your stupid Dandies! It's not going to happen! You'd have to force me!"

"Oh, it's getting to the point where I'm going to do just that, Peter. I will not let you go without a fight."

"Is that what you want?" Pete stepped forward suddenly and threw a punch at The Baron.

The Baron simply grabbed his fist with one gloved hand. "Don't be unwise, my boy. You can't face me yet." The Baron tossed Pete aside on the royal blue carpet.

"Your furniture smells like ponies. How old is this house?" Pete got up, and broke a footstool in half to form a bludgeon.

"Now see here," The Baron said irritably, taking off one of his gloves, "That was an $800 dollar footstool! Now I have to be serious with you!"

"Then get serious, fancypants!" Pete jumped and swung the broken ottoman in a fast downward arc. The Baron grabbed the footstool, pulling it towards him, and struck Pete's chest with his bare palm. Pete rolled backwards, and came up to one knee, coughing. He looked down: the strike had burned an irregular, almost hand-shaped hole in his sweater. "How did you do that?"

"Practice, and a long time being a vampire. It's a skill far beyond the reach of a young hooligan like you… _for now_." The Baron tossed the stool back to Pete. "I do hope you don't expect to beat me vampire-to-vampire?"

"I _can_ beat you, and I _will_." Pete grabbed both halves of the shattered footstool and charged again. He thrusted; The Baron parried with his gloved hand, and grabbed the fractured furniture. Pete swung the other piece low, but The Baron blocked and grabbed that too. Unfortunately, this left the vampiric nobleman with no way to block the vicious drop kick Pete aimed at his ribcage. The Baron smacked headfirst against the wall, cracking the plaster and knocking his hat off, but Pete backflipped off of The Baron and landed on his feet.

The Baron rose up again, clapping and chuckling evilly. "Good show, Peter, but not good enough." A grandfather clock struck seven. "It's almost sundown, and all my Dandies will be up and about in less than five minutes. You can't beat me one-on-one, so me and my minions is far from the scope of your abilities."

The door flew open, splintered where Joe had kicked it. "We're here to rescue you," He assured Pete, his big, shoulder-mounted, customized firearm pointed at The Baron's heart.

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**Whoo, yeah! Go Pete's friends! Okay, stay tuned, readers, and see what happens next chapter. You know, the usual, action-y vampire hunting and angst. Duh.**

**And I apoligize to the other guys for being my comic relief, since it means being stupid on occasion.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own very little of what is used in this fanfic.**

**Let's give a warm welcome to newcomer, avatarjk137, who wrote most of this chapter. That includes all of the action and a lot of the dialogue. He is officially my co-writer. He doesn't have any fanfics yet, but if he had an account by the time my fanfic titled, "The Betrayal" was being written, it probably would've been on his profile.**

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"Was that at all necessary? The door wasn't even locked." The Baron said, rather peeved at the sudden intrusion.

"I told you to try the door first." Andrew punched Joe in the back lightly.

"I couldn't try it; The Baron would know we were coming."

"Oh… oh, yeah."

"How did you gnats find us? I left no evidence!"

"Pete _asked_ us to implant him with a tracking device after he was first bitten, thank you." Patrick walked in, toting a much bigger stake crossbow with a sniper scope. "I made it myself."

"Where'd you put the device?" Andrew asked, keeping his eyes on The Baron.

"His bite wounds hadn't closed up yet, soooo…"

"Ow," Joe remarked. "And speaking of 'OW'!" He toted the cannon and fired. A river of sparkling, pressurized water gushed toward The Baron. "Holy River, by Patrick Inc. coming at you!"

"Oh, dear." The Baron grabbed a nearby umbrella and opened it quickly, revealing a red umbrella with black bats in a circular pattern around the center. He snapped the umbrella into the stream of holy water, deflecting its flow to his stairway, where the first wave of The Dandies was rushing down.

"Sir, I have to-AAAH!" The holy water made impact on the poor Dandy, who collapsed on the ground writhing in pain while sizzling and smoking. Two other Dandies came up behind him and slipped in the water.

The Baron smiled at Pete. "My other minions should be making their way up here right about now." Right on cue, the sound of multiple feet stomping down the hall sounded throughout the room.

"But…" Pete quickly turned his head around to the doorway and back. When he was looking straight ahead again, The Baron was just inches in front of him. Pete stumbled back as The Baron smiled even wider. "Now, don't be so jumpy, Peter. I trust I'll be seeing you again very soon. Ta-ta!" The Baron turned and walked upstairs and past the rest of the Dandies, murmuring something to them as he went. Seconds later, he was gone, and The Dandies were swarming down the stairs and out of the kitchen.

"Now this'll be fun!" Joe screamed, setting the Holy River to 'Rock-and-Roll'. He opened fire, emptying the entire tank into a half-dozen Dandies advancing on Patrick, who was shooting stakes wildly at chest height. He shrugged and threw the gun at a Dandy approaching, then drew a stake in each hand and charged some Dandies he head weakened with holy water.

Patrick had really built a better crossbow. Once he calmed down and began to use the scope, he nailed ten screaming vampires in the heart without missing a shot. He trusted the others to keep vampires from getting too close; likewise, they trusted him to nail the vampires sneaking up on them, and not hit them by accident. For all their goofing around, they were quite the fighting force, and teamwork was not a foreign concept.

Pete was doing what, lately, was what really made him happy: Killing other vampires. He punched a Dandy in the face, hard, then leapfrogged over him, double-kicking another vampire, and broke the neck of the stunned vampire he had punched. He ducked under a vampire's left hook, and responded with a jumping knee to the chin. The Dandies just kept coming. He narrowly dodged a knife stab, and grabbed the assailant's arm, breaking it in five places with a series of quick chops. He slammed that vampire into his fellow henchmen, before catching a high kick from another, who had obviously trained. He hadn't trained enough. Pete spun him around, smashing three more vampires and throwing the one he had grabbed into a priceless tea set.

Andrew stepped out of the circle of slain and K.O.'ed Dandies to stab one attacking Patrick in the ankle. He was getting really good at this. Another vampire advanced with two nasty-looking daggers, his face totally bandaged except for his eyes. "You got me last time, human fool, but I've turned the tables!"

"Oh, you have, have you?" Andrew jumped away from the rain of stabbin'. He moved in for a counterattack, weaving under a high slash. The previously mauled Dandy blocked with his other dagger, but he didn't expect Andrew's new rapier to smash right through his hunting knife. The sword went through his chest, out his back, and into the heart and back of another bloodsucker who had been backing away from Pete's passionate rage. "That's my _good_ rapier, bitches!" He yelled, kicking his two most recent kills off of his shiny sword. Then he spied a vampire sneaking up on his gadget-wielding friend. "Patrick, _watch out_!"

"WHOA!" Patrick spun on his heel, shooting a bolt wildly at his Dandy aggressor. By sheer luck, it caught the ambusher between the eyes. The vampire was really quite shocked at this. Patrick decided to shoot another stake at a kung-fu Dandy that had grabbed Joe's arms from behind before finishing off his startled opponent, who had only stood their, poised to attack, a shocked look on his face. "That… was total p0wnage," he said, grinning broadly.

Pete tripped a Dandy and Joe staked him as he was getting up, finishing the last of The Dandies' thugs who had been at The Baron's house. Only three were left, one standing at the top of the stairs, and two more near the kitchen. These guys were clearly different: they sported dark blue velvet fedoras, and they could obviously afford to live well: one sported a platinum monocle, another carried an ivory walking stick tipped with gold, and the third had multiple gemstone rings: a ruby, an emerald, a sapphire, and a jet black stone.

"If it isn't The Baron's lieutenants!" Pete spat.

"Yeah!" Joe agreed. "His right, left, and, er, other-hand men."

"You must be Peter," responded the monocled vampire smoothly, "And _you_ must be retarded."

"You two can go, I'll make sure to reduce their number," the lieutenant on the stairs reassured, twirling his cane.

"Like hell you can just go!" Pete charged the monocled vampire. The Dandy _Capo régime _just laughed and raised his arms. Pete lifted into the air, his face betraying his surprise, and was flung back into Andrew. "We'll be going now." They left out the back.

The cane-wielding lieutenant drove his cane into the air, as black lightning coursed along his arms. The negative energy crackled at the golden tip of his cane, and began lashing out, blasting large craters in the walls and ceiling. One bolt shattered the columns flanking the door between the kitchen and the foyer. "I'm pretty sure those were the support beams to the house." Joe muttered.

"That's bad, isn't it?" Pete queried, grimacing.

"YOU BET IT'S BAD!" the high-ranking vampire cackled, all traces of proper British self-control gone, his long hair standing on end. "I'M BRINGING DOWN THE HOUSE, VAMPIRES, VAMPIRE HUNTERS, AND ALL!"

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**Forgive the outburst. He's crazy. Mad props to Patrick for the p0wnage.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the stuff this fanfic is based on. Once, I vissited a parallel universe where writers actually gained ownership of whatever they wrote on. You'll NEVER get there. EVER. **

**Okay, SO, we're here...recovered and stuff, mostly. There's some psychological crap in here.

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**

The nicest house on the nicest block in town was reduced to rubble within a few seconds. It was the nicest, neatest, most well-decorated house on the block, yet not a single sane person would move in or even walk through the front door, not even if you paid them.

The center of the rubble shook, and Vulcan, one of The Baron's lieutenants, rose out. He brushed off his dirtied, expensive suit, shook any dust off of his blue velvet fedora, and plopped it back down on his head. Then he retrieved his gold-and-ivory cane, and inspected it for damage. It was fine, but it still crackled with electricity.

He sighed to himself. "I suppose I shouldn't really make a habit out of…slightly losing control like that. It could progress into something much worse." The well-dressed vampire began simply walking down the street, twirling his cane and whistling a happy tune.

About twenty minutes later, a pale hand burst through the rubble 10 feet from where the villain had been. Pete struggled out of the plaster and roof tiles, and searched for his friends. Only two thoughts crossed his mind: _Are they okay?_ And, _Ow, that hurt, a lot_. He pulled a piece of chandelier out of his shoulder and heard shouting. Pete quickly began digging. He soon found the source of the shouting.

Andrew was alright, if a bit dusty, but had been trapped by the banister of the second floor hallway. Patrick and Joe were nearby, and each of them had found cover under tables. Patrick's marble coffee table was fine, but Joe's flimsier end table had snapped under the weight of part of the ceiling. He was banged up pretty badly, but would recover. Pete dug everyone free. "Come on, let's go, the sun rises in half an hour."

Joe rubbed his head and lifted himself up. "Where to, Captain of Beating Vampires Senseless?"

Andrew turned to Joe. "That was weak,"

"We're going home. I need a new coffin, and like I said, the sun is coming up shortly."

Patrick looked at his watch to confirm, but it got crushed somewhere between fighting vampires and the house collapsing on them. "He's probably right. Let's go."

Andrew looked at Pete, then to Patrick. "What about The Baron?"

"What _about _The Baron?" Joe said.

Andrew and Joe caught up with the other two, who had already started walking. Andrew looked down. "I almost don't want to go back. I'm afraid to see what might be there."

"Same here, but it would be more competent to go back home than linger and be hunted down by enemies in an unfamiliar environment." Patrick said.

Joe sighed and put his hands on his head. "Look, Patrick, I'm not feeling my best, so don't use grown-up words for the time being…"

"Okay then…if we don't go back to the warehouse, we die."

"That's what I thought you said."

"Stop talking," Pete rubbed his temples in a feeble attempt to soothe his now-throbbing head.

"What's wrong?" Patrick asked.

Pete didn't look at him. "Your talking to me constantly is what's wrong. Leave me alone." Pete sped up his pace a bit.

"It's okay to be scared."

This made Pete stop in his tracks. "What?" he said, turning around and baring his fangs.

Patrick seemed unfazed by what the group became to know as Pete's usual display of aggression. "I mean, if you don't think you're ready to face The Baron, maybe if you talked about it, or just admitted it, you might feel better."

"Feel better about what?"

"Facing him one-on-one."

Pete growled. He reached out and grabbed the scruff of Patrick's jacket. "Look, I don't need you shrinking me, Gadget Boy!"

Patrick didn't flinch. "Then what do you need?"

Pete laughed bitterly. "You really want to know what I need?"

Patrick nodded as Pete released his jacket. "I need a cure."

"You want to be cured?"

"I don't want to be cured. I need to be cured. I miss…sunlight, and…garlic foods, and being human! That's why I…" Pete swallowed and continued. "That's why I fight off other vampires so much. I don't want to become one of them, even if it would be so much easier. Because if I fully become part of one of those groups, then I won't even have access to a cure if there becomes one."

Andrew looked confused. "Why wouldn't you have access?"

"I just have a feeling they wouldn't let me jump for a chance to cure myself if I became a valuable member or something."

"I _will _find a cure, don't worry." Patrick looked determined.

Pete laughed. "I doubt you will anytime really soon, but just for saying that, I would hug you if I were that kind of guy."

"I feel the warm fuzzies," Joe commented.

Andrew smiled widely. "This only means one thing…" he grabbed Joe, Patrick and Pete all at the same time and pulled them together. "Vampire Hunting Vigilante Group Hug!"

"Ugh…" Patrick grunted.

"This was _not _called for!" Pete growled. "I'm going to bite your finger off in one second…"

"Broken ribs here!" Joe managed, wiggling in pain.

* * *

The Baron turned around. "You destroyed my manor, and you didn't even dispose of one of them?"

Vulcan shuddered a little at his master's polite displeasure. "I dropped a house on them, sir. Your _three-story_ house. I didn't expect the humans to survive, let alone walk away. I'm quite sorry, sir, I should've checked the facts. Are you sure your scout got it right?"

"I saw it myself with my telescope."

"Deeply sorry, sir."

"Next time, kill at least two of them, or go sunbathing. Am I clear?"

Vulcan's creepy grin returned. "Crystal, sir."

* * *

**How cute. I want to participate in the next Vampire Hunting Vigilante Group Hug! Oh wait, no I don't...**

**Yeah, you don't even want to know what Vulcan's creepy grin is for! Yesiree, that Vulcan's a crazy one. Watch out for him, kids. If he's walking down the street, turn and run the other way. Run fast.**

**Byebye.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own very little within the fanfic. Your epidermis is showing.**

**This chapter had a lot of comic relief in the beginning. Andrew finally gets a bigger piece of the action near the end, but not for long. The Punks make their first appearance, and my first Punk OC says hi. I still don't have a name for her...**

* * *

"Leave me alone, I need to heal." Joe walked toward his room when the gang reached the warehouse. 

Andrew looked at him hopefully. "Want me to do my chiropractic healing thing with the pressure points that I learned online?"

"The last time you did that to Pete, whenever he tried to move his left arm he moved his right leg! That went on for a week!"

Pete sat on the couch. "Yeah, eating was a bitch. And don't get me started on shaving!"

Patrick looked over at Pete. "You need a new coffin. Want me to make you one?"

"No, I can make one myself."

"Out of what?"

Pete looked around. "Wall."

"Regardless! I want to show you the new invention from Patrick Inc.!" Patrick paused, thinking about Pete's response. "Don't you go near those walls with any tools!"

"Who said I was going to use tools? Now, what was your invention?"

"A garlic smokescreen! It makes it hard to see, and any vampires who haven't built up a resistance to garlic will get migraines and get their senses screwed up!"

Pete snickered. "And I bet those life-threatening headaches will stop them in their tracks!"

"I don't see you coming up with anything," Patrick shot back.

"Besides, didn't The Baron say something to the effect of 'Blablabla can't build resistance blablabla garlic blablabla bubble and squeak'?" Andrew said. "Like, you can't build a resistance to garlic?"

"I don't know…maybe," Pete responded.

The silence was uncomfortable, so Andrew dropped the subject and looked at his weapon. "I have to clean my rapier…"

"HEY!" an unfamiliar female voice rang out from behind the front door.

Pete snickered. "Joe, it's for you."

"Open the door before we break it down, freaks!"

"Ooh, 'freaks'! Haven't heard that one before." Andrew said, wiping off his rapier with a wet paper towel.

The door did however, bust open. A tall female vampire with long black hair and a nasty leather whip led in a rough-looking small squad of the Punk vampire gang. "What's up, victims? Don't you have any vampires to hunt down today?"

"We do now," Pete looked slightly happy, rising from the couch. The punk leader seemed unafraid of him as he began walking towards the group. She simply smiled and cracked her whip on the ground. "You guys didn't turn me into a vampire, but…it's fun to kill you anyway!" he said, his smile getting wider.

"Hey, vampire punk lady!" Patrick said. She turned towards him. "Think fast!" he tossed a small, black, glossy ball.

She looked at it. "This smells like-"

Before she could finish her sentence, the capsule exploded, sending a yellow-green garlic cloud across that half of the room. The punks cried out in pain, and a couple dropped to their knees. Andrew and Joe casually began walking into the cloud and staking immobilized vampires. "This is fun!" Andrew exclaimed, staking a guy with a blue Mohawk.

"Yeah, but it smells like crap," Joe said.

"It smells worse for me!" Pete commented.

Andrew looked at him after staking the last Punk he could find. "I thought you built up a resistance!"

"Well…Andrew, you know how you're allergic to strawberries? Well, I don't think you'll get…un-allergic to them by eating more of them. It's like that, instead of making the symptoms themselves better, I'm, like, building up my pain threshold."

"Cool!"

"'Cool'? You should try it sometime; it's not as cool it sounds!"

"Stop bickering!" Patrick scolded. "We have a situation at hand!"

Pete looked at the defeated vampires. "I don't see any situation."

"What about the leader girl?"

"Patrick is always thinking about the laaadiiees!" Joe commented.

"She probably ran away," Andrew said.

"Oh, did I now?" The Punk officer jumped out of the closet to the side of Patrick's work table.

"You were in the closet?" Joe said, puzzled. In response to his question, the female vampire cracked her whip across his side.

"OW! You BITCH! That hurt like hell!" Joe clutched his side and swung a punch with his other hand, but missed. But before she could crack her whip again, Pete grabbed it and yanked it away. He tossed it to the side. "You're the dominant type, aren't you?"

She smiled evilly. "I'm the kick-ass type, cutie!" She aimed a high kick at Pete's face, but he dodged.

"'Cutie'? Ew, get away from me!" Pete grabbed her arm and swung her into the table, snapping it in half down the middle. She looked unharmed though and jumped up from the broken table. She reached in the pocket of her ripped-up black leather pants and pulled out a disc-shaped metal capsule.

Another cruel smile spread across her face as she looked at Pete. "You're still a vampire, and as far as I know, that gadget boy makes vampire-fighting weapons. What happens if I throw this doohickey I stole at you?" She tossed it and Pete ducked just in time. It hit the wall and Pete turned around and inspected it. It was beeping.

"Pete, get the fuck away from the wall!" Patrick shouted. Pete jumped away and the little disc exploded. Gray-blue smoke poured out. Due to the explosion, a large portion of the wall was gone.

The Punk officer giggled. "So all it does is explode. I stand corrected!" She ran away through the still open front door.

"Patrick…" Pete stumbled onto the arm of the couch. "What the hell is in that smoke…" Pete stumbled onto the ground and passed out.

Andrew ran over to Pete. "Oh my god, Patrick, what the hell did you do!"

"It's just sort of a sleeping smoke bomb capsule thing. It works - mostly - for humans too, but Pete got most of the smoke. It won't affect us, it's mostly gone." Patrick walked over.

"Well, what about Pete?" Andrew poked the unconscious Pete. "Hey…Pete?" he said quietly.

"I can wake him up." Joe bent down and gently grabbed Pete's sweatshirt. He then shook him violently with all his strength. "Wake up, wake up, wake up!"

Due to the shaking, the back of Pete's head hit the couch and the jolt woke him up. "Ouch! What the hell, Joe?"

Joe smiled triumphantly. "I told you I could wake him up!"

Pete got up and brushed himself off. "Well, that whole scene was interesting. Those Punks sure are disruptive."

"I can't believe you ever considered joining them," Andrew said.

"Well, at the time, I thought I would have to join some group, and the Punks seemed better suited to me than the Dandies. But the Punks…just didn't suit me either."

"Well, now what?" Joe asked.

"Now you all fall down," responded a haughty male voice. Everybody turned, and the craziest vampire they knew was leaning against the large hole in the door, twirling his cane. "I didn't introduce myself properly last time, so I'll put it in terms you blokes understand. Me, Vulcan, you, _DEAD_!" He dropped his polite exterior and grinned insanely as energy crackled along his cane again.

"Uh, er, HERE COMES THE CURVEBALL!" Patrick pulled another garlic smokescreen from his pocket and threw it at Vulcan as hard as he could.

"So you want to play the American pastime, eh? BATTER UP!" Using his cane, Vulcan deflected the shining black sphere. It flew through the air, and landed… in Pete's mouth. "I think this is the wrong sport," Vulcan sniggered, "but '8 ball in the corner pocket.'" Pete emitted muffled screams, pointing at the anti-vampire weapon lodged in his jaw. Then the smokescreen detonated. When the garlic cleared, Pete was on the ground moaning, and The Baron's lieutenant was fully charged with negative energy, cackling his head off.

"Okay, new plan," Patrick mumbled, thinking furiously. "Me and Joe run. Andrew, fight him until we've escaped, then you follow us.

"If we all fight him, we can take him," Andrew argued.

"He'll bring our house down too!"

"Oh, yeah, right." Andrew charged Vulcan, thrusting his sword as hard as he could. Vulcan was able to parry Andrew's blows with his cane, but just barely. Sparks flew as the sword and ivory cane clashed over and over. Joe and Patrick ran for it, and Vulcan could only shout angrily in protest, still on the defensive from Andrew's assault. Eventually, Vulcan made an error, and Andrew's 'good rapier' pierced Vulcan's left forearm.

Andrew expected Vulcan to scream in unholy pain, so the vampire's smile growing even wider was reasonably surprising. "Your turn," Vulcan whispered, and smacked Andrew across the forehead with his cane, electrocuting him.

* * *

**Looks like I can name a few different characters that mught be screwed. Poor Andrew. Poor Pete. Poor everyone, I guess.**

**I wrote a bit of the action for once. My brother wrote that last section, though. I don't know where I'm going with this. Neither does he. Don't worry, we'll figure it out.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I own very little within this fanfic. They're watching you.**

**So...enjoy it! I'm going to go now. And write chapter 9 of this.**

Chapter 8

"Come back here, you troublemaking humans!" Vulcan ran after Joe and Patrick after dashing out the warehouse.

"Oh _shit_! He's coming after us! Where's Andrew?" Joe whirled around to face Patrick.

"He must've lost! Damn, I hope he didn't die or anything…" Patrick looked at the ground as he ran.

"Well, what about _us_?" Joe shouted at him. He turned around and saw Vulcan picking up speed. "Crap! Run faster, he's gaining!"

"Grrr…" Vulcan looked down and suddenly realized Andrew's rapier was sstill stuck in his forearm "Oh, dear!" He slowed down for a moment to pluck it out and tossed it aside, then went back to his normal speed.

"Come on Patrick! Run as fast your Gadget Boy legs can carry you!" Joe said quickly.

"I'm running as fast as I can! And I can't help feeling like I'm forgetting something important…"

* * *

"Livington, just what are you doing?" The Baron's other two lieutenants were in the warehouse, inspecting things and wondering which items they should steal. 

The lieutenant wiggled the valuable rings on his fingers as he poked around in Patrick's stash of gadgets. "I just wanted to see if there's something I could…alter. To make it less dangerous for _us, _that is. All these weapons are made for fighting vampires, Sorel! The nerve!" The proper vampire had a look of disgust on his face as he addressed the other lieutenant.

The lieutenant Sorel adjusted his monocle. "Well, they do fight us vampires for a living, you are aware of that?"

"Unfortunately. Maybe if young Peter's friends were vampires, they would be of some help to us."

"It is more trouble to get to them than the help they would give,"

"Get to them? Why, they attack us head on all the time. It would be simple to get to them; just making them obey is quite another story."

"You have a point, but I digress. Get what you want and let's start leaving." The monocled vampire ordered.

The third lieutenant looked around. He pointed to Andrew, slumped on the ground near Pete, unconscious as well. "That will be a consolation prize!"

Sorel sighed. "You don't want to carry him all the way back, do you?"

"Oh no, I just want to have a little fun, that's all!" Livington snapped his fingers. Within seconds, a small group of bats flew in through the broken door of the warehouse. The vampire directed them towards Andrew.

The din of the small nocturnal animals around Andrew awoke him. "Huh…oh, bats…bats, BATS!" Andrew woke up fully and jumped to his feet, scared suddenly by the bat swarm. "Aaah, bats! Get them away!" Andrew swatted at his head and ran out of the warehouse. The lieutenant with the rings that had called the bats laughed hysterically, showing his fangs as he laughed.

The lieutenant with the monocle rolled his eyes slightly. "Honestly, Livington, don't you ever tire of that?"

"Never!" the other was still laughing.

Sorel sighed and used his telekinetic powers to lift up a small bottle filled halfway with a clear liquid on a countertop, next to the blender. "This must be the mixture Peter uses to curb his natural vampiric lust," he said to himself. Using his powers more, he tossed the glass bottle against the wall, and it smashed into pieces. "And now it's not!" He smiled to himself. "Okay now, Livington. Enough fooling around. Let's take Peter and go."

The lieutenants walked over to Pete and reached down, grabbing his sweatshirt…

* * *

**Okay, just clearing things up for you: Sorel is the Dandy lieutenant with the monocle and telekinetic powers. Livington is the lieutenant with the rings and the power to call on bats.**

**Poor Andrew. Got attacked by bats. Poor Patrick. His Gadget Guy legs are fast, but not as fast as Joe's legs. Poor Pete. He's getting kidnapped.**

**The next chapter will be full of angsty flashbacks.**

**Byebye.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I own very little of what is used in this fanfic. Ziggazigga ah.**

**Guess what kids? It's painful dream sequence flashback time! Isn't that awesome? Cheer, go on cheer! It's awesome! Come on, now! Cheer, do it!Chee-you're not cheering...**

**Today, my dad, brother, and I were in Party City looking for costumes and I couldn't see anything I liked. I thought maybe I'd go as vampiric Pete Wentz. What? Why are you looking at me like that? Well, it's not like I have any better ideas!**

_

* * *

_

_"HEY! Pete! Where are you anyway?" Andrew called into the newly found warehouse._

_"He's in the bathroom. Leave him alone." Patrick said, putting the box down on the concrete floor haphazardly. "He's going through a lot with becoming…you know…"_

_"Like what?" Joe asked. "It's not like he grows those fangs throughout weeks. He got all his powers and his weaknesses and his new teeth in a night. He should be used to it by now."_

_"How would you feel if you just became a vampire while trying to fight them off?"_

_"Whatever! I'm going to go see how's doing anyway." Joe walked over to the bathroom where Pete was residing for the past fifteen minutes. _

_Andrew walked over with him. "Open up, Pete! You've been in there for, like, a really long time!"_

_When there was no response, Joe put his hand on the doorknob. "Open up, or you're going to get your privacy invaded. I'm going to give you to the count of three…one…two…" _

"_JOE! Don't! Pete ordered from inside the bathroom._

"_Three!" Joe pushed open the door. His face changed when he saw what had happened on the other side. "Hey, man…what the hell did you DO?"_

"_What?" Patrick pushed aside through Joe and stood in front of Pete in the bathroom. Pete stood with a guilty and pained look on his face, with blood dripping down his chin and onto his now ruined gray hoodie. He was panting in pain, his open mouth revealing the spot where his new vampiric fangs had just grown in a couple of days previously, now empty and bloody._

_"Did you... yank out your vampire teeth?" Patrick said in disbelief, looking down at a pair of bloodstained pliers in Pete's hands._

_"Yeah…" Pete didn't face Patrick, Joe or Andrew. "I…looked in the mirror, and I couldn't stand them…and freaked out…"_

_Patrick stepped forward towards Pete. Pete stepped back suddenly in response._

Pete shot up with a gasp. He looked around, in an unfamiliar room, with plush wine-colored carpet and flowery wallpaper. There was a mahogany door on one side, but that was the only significant feature on the walls, there being no decorations, photos, or paintings of any kind, nor any windows in the small room. There was just one plain, hanging light in the middle of the room. As far as other furniture went, there was one wood coffin, much like the one Pete used to have, and on top of the closed coffin were a clean, tan suit and pants with a rather nice fedora on top.

Pete flinched as the door flew open. The Baron was in the open doorway and two lieutenants stood behind him.

The Baron recognized an aggressive glint in Pete's eyes and stepped forward into the room. "Don't bother trying to attack, you're outnumbered."

* * *

Joe and Patrick ducked down a corner behind an unfamiliar warehouse, smaller than theirs and it smelled like fish. "Okay…" Patrick panted. "We can't outrun him, but we can outsmart him…so we're going to have to fight him eventually." 

"Yeah, we turned one corner and he lost us. I saw him still running…you sure are right about the outsmarting thing."

"Guess again!" Vulcan stepped out from the shadows in the same alley as Joe and Patrick.

"AAH!" Joe pointed to him in disbelief. "But you were…running…and we…"

"Maybe you noticed the fact that _I'm not human_!" Vulcan laughed creepily.

"Wait for it…" Patrick searched inside his pockets. After searching at least eight pockets quickly (a good Gadget Guy knows cargos are a must), he finally pulled out a little disc-shaped capsule like the one the female punk officer had found and threw it directly at Vulcan, who caught it with one hand. "This isn't rather like the one that Peter…_caught_, is it?" Vulcan said to himself. Immediately after, it exploded as Joe and Patrick dashed behind him.

"Nice one!" Joe turned to Patrick. "But what other gadgets do you have?"

"Uhhh…not much else, really." Patrick looked down. "I didn't have time to really grab anything before we split."

"Well, now what? That smoke stuff won't do much good for long!"

"For once…" Patrick put his hand to his head. "I don't know."

Much to Patrick and Joe's surprise, Vulcan quickly came stumbling out from the smoke. "I say!" he brushed himself off slightly. "That smoke smells like crap!"

Joe whipped around to face Patrick. "Quick! Throw something at him! Or give me something to throw at him!" he whispered.

"That capsule didn't even work!" Patrick whispered back.

"Well, I can't fight him quite yet! I'd just go down in an instant!"

"I don't have anything else, unless you count a cell phone a weapon!" Patrick whispered back, holding up his picture phone.

"That'll do!" Joe grabbed the mobile phone as Vulcan started towards them, and threw it with all his might at Vulcan. It hit Vulcan in the head, making a sickening crack as it bounced off and Vulcan stumbled backwards.

"YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO THROW IT!" Patrick shouted at Joe in anger. When Vulcan stepped forward, the two backed up until they found themselves in a corner of the alley.

Vulcan composed himself quickly, and readjusted his now crooked fedora. "Now, that wasn't very nice, boys. AND IT HURT LIKE HELL!" Vulcan was charging the defenseless young men, when out of nowhere, Andrew jumped out and stepped in front of Joe and Patrick just in time. With all of his might, he thrust his rapier into Vulcan's chest, right at his heart. Vulcan screamed in pain and stumbled backwards a few times. Immediately following that, he collapsed on the ground, dead.

Patrick let out a sigh of relief and sat himself down on the cold concrete. Joe looked at Andrew in disbelief. "DUDE! That was AWESOME! How did you find us?"

"I was attacked by bats, but that's another story, and anyway, I was running and there was a slightly decreasing blood trail that Vulcan-weirdo was leaving from the first wound I gave him. So I followed it, and just when it had stopped, I found you guys." Andrew looked over at the deceased lieutenant. "Whoa, what a creep. Good thing he's finally gone."

"So…now what, Patrick?" Joe looked over at Patrick. Andrew's eyes followed.

"Uh…we could go back to the warehouse and…" Patrick's eyes opened wider. "Uh…crap! What are we going to do about Pete! We left him in there!"

"Oh, right…I don't know…" Andrew said, thinking for a minute. "Right, bad news. The Baron's other officer guys are there. One sent bats after me and I ran away. They probably took Pete away by now."

Patrick thought for a minute. "Then we go back to the warehouse…and hope for the best. We assume Pete and the lieutenants are gone, and if the lieutenants are still there, then…we do our best."

"That plan has a lot of holes in it…" Joe said.

Patrick sighed. "I'll say it again, if you can think of anything better…"

"Sounds like a good plan!" Joe quickly interrupted.

"Say," Andrew wondered aloud, "This creep destroyed The Baron's house. Where would The Baron be hiding Pete this time?"

"Dunno," Joe replied. "The Baron probably has, like, four houses. Y'know, one for each season?"

"Yeah, but in the same town?"

* * *

**Who knows? Maybe.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. What's with today, today?**

**Chapter time. Chapter-ness-ocity.**

**Hey, I need something straightened out. I read an article that said that The Killers and Fall Out Boy hate each other. Some Fall Out Boy fan clear this up for me! I'm a fan, but I just don't know about this one info tidbit.**

* * *

"I beg your pardon!" The Baron looked at his younger Dandy messenger boy in disbelief. "Vulcan's dead! I _say_! Goodness!" The Baron adjusted his fedora and looked at nothing in particular for a minute. "Hmm…well, I was going to have him assassinated in a week or so anyway…he's a bit too much of a…loose cannon, I suppose." 

Sorel turned to the Baron. "Who are you going to have take his place, sir?"

"I'm not sure…perhaps that soldier who can transform into a wolf..." He looked thoughtful, and then turned to Pete. "Unless, of course, _you'd _like to take his place."

"I'd never join you British freaks!" he replied angrily.

"'British freaks'?" Livington pretended to look hurt. "Was that really necessary?"

In response, Pete put his hand to his chin and pretended to think about it. "Uh…yeah."

"At least we have the sense to train our captive bats." Livington insulted. "Your pet bat was so wild he reminded me of _you _your friends."

"Who, my little bat friend? Simi? I assure you, he's normally friendly. He just doesn't like…you fedora-wearing dumb asses."

"That's enough, now Peter." Sorel shot his hand out and used a telekinetic blast to send Pete flying back into the wall. He hit it with a loud thud and slid to the ground.

"Ow! And you say my friends and I are the jackasses. You can't just go around throwing people into walls, you know!" With this, Pete jumped to his feet and charged Sorel. Right before he made impact with the lieutenant, Sorel made a telekinetic shield, which Pete slammed into headfirst. He fell backwards and rubbed the front of his head. "Dammit! How much can you do with that power?"

"Regardless!" The Baron stepped in between Sorel and Pete and signaled to Sorel to step back, who obeyed. "Peter, I want to explain to you my offer of your becoming an officer of mine."

Pete interrupted him. "I noticed all of your special little lieutenants have special little powers. What's mine?"

"Nothing _yet_, I suppose, except for your agility and strength in fighting. I could teach you how to do some of the abilities I have gained over the many years…" The Baron took off one of his gloves. "Including this." The Baron put his hand on the wall. A slight sizzling noise was heard throughout the small room, and within ten seconds a hand-shaped hole burnt clean through the wall. The Baron reached for the glove he put down on the coffin, but stopped and looked again at the hole. "Livington, put a painting up there. The hole is rather ugly."

"Will do, sir," he responded.

Pete just looked at the hole. Then he looked at the clothes that he noticed were on the coffin, the Dandy uniform. He stood up and went over to the clothes, picked them up and promptly ripped them at the seams, the fedora, jacket, and pants. "There's no way I am _ever _wearing those clothes. There is no way I'm _ever _joining forces with you!"

The Baron cocked his head to the left and sighed, shaking his head. "Why do you have to be so rude, my boy?" He turned around and began strolling nonchalantly out the door. "I'm going to leave you alone for a little bit now. I will be back later, though, don't worry."

"Don't worry, he says…" Pete mumbled to himself. The he looked at The Baron. "Any idea when I might make it out of this place?"

"I doubt you will. I would think your only hopes of direct escape is your troublemaking friends, and don't raise high expectations of them getting through my security." And with that, The Baron left Pete alone with the two lieutenants his angry thoughts.

A distant explosion was heard, causing the room to vibrate slightly. "Was that your 'friends' again, Peter?" Livington asked with a sneer, hanging a colorful oil painting on the wall over The Baron's handprint.

"Those hooligans must be stronger than we thought if they killed Vulcan without Peter," Sorel inferred, reading a magazine. "I can't believe that guard was reading this. It's hideous," he griped, leaning forward to get a better look.

"Don't call me Peter!" Pete yelled. He jumped at Sorel, who telekinetically flipped the coffin upright. Pete's fist went through the coffin door and became stuck.

"You're a really slow learner, aren't you?" Sorel laughed, his eyes never leaving the magazine.

Livington laughed. "I'm kind of glad he refused to be our equal. Look, poor Peter's fist is stuck." Peter had both of his feet on the coffin, and was trying to pull himself free. Another blast shook the building, closer now. "Your 'friends' do like the loud explosions, don't they? They're like juvenile delinquents with cherry bombs and toilets."

"Shut UP!" Peter finally managed to pull the whole door off of the coffin, and swung it into Livington's skull. Livington slumped to the floor, and Sorel finally looked up from his magazine.

"Was that _really_ necessary?"

* * *

**Ahahaha, yes Sorel, it was. Next chapter: Sorel and Pete collide! And it doesn't look like Pete has the upper hand either!**

**Oh, and if you review, you'll get a preview. Like...a paragraph or so.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. Believe it.**

**SO, now these two are going to fight. The rest of the band will be here soon, don't you worry about them.**

**Beware of torture: Pete's going to get his ass whooped pretty hard for a while.

* * *

**

Pete grinned, showing his teeth, including his fangs. "So are you going to fight me now?"

Sorel sighed. "I would prefer to just relax and read this…fine little magazine, but since you seem so keen on not letting me be, I _suppose _I don't have a choice."

"This should be fun…"

"Fun for me, maybe, but I think that you may as well abandon your idea of having a fun time right now." Pete engaged in his usual charge, directed straight for Sorel at ramming speed. Sorel sighed again, and thrusted the remainder of the coffin into Pete's gut, knocking the wind out of him. "Really, Peter, you are _such _a bore." Another explosion rocked the building, and Sorel calmly tossed Pete through the nearest door. "No reason for your 'friends' to bother us too soon."

"You…are going down," Pete gasped, still barely able to breathe. He looked around. "What kind of kitchen is this?" It was a kitchen, and it was unusual. First, it was dark because all the light bulbs had exploded. Second, the oven and microwave had been replaced with small additional refrigerators. Finally, two coffins were side by side in front of the other door to the room. The coffins burst open, and two more Dandies jumped out, ready to attack. "You two don't even stand a chance," Pete laughed. They attacked anyway. Pete kicked the first one in the kneecap, breaking it, and grabbed the pickaxe he had been wielding. He staked the other with the pick, and then kicked the first one in the jaw. As Sorel calmly walked into the room, Pete threw the pickaxe at him.

"Sorry about the lights. Vulcan-" He saw the pickaxe hurtling towards his monocle-clad face. "Really, Peter, _throwing_ things at me? Do you _ever _learn? Honestly." He telekinetically caught the pick, and mentally opened the nearest drawer. "Let's teach you some table manners." Several forks levitated from the drawer and flew toward Pete. He dodged, but the forks turned around in midair and caught him in the back. "The forks are on the left," he said. "There are salad forks, entrée forks, dessert forks, and my personal favorite, fondue forks… am I going too fast for you?" He laughed evilly as Pete pulled the forks out of his back and bent the tines so they couldn't stab him anymore.

"I've had enough of you!" Pete grabbed a steel mop that had been lying near him, and charged Sorel again. Sorel tossed the pickaxe at him, but Pete caught it in his other hand. The lieutenant quickly levitated the two coffins between him and Pete.

"Better, Peter, but still a bit short." Sorel smashed the coffins forward, smacking him in the face and knocking him on his rear. "Now, while you're holding the meat with forks, you cut it…with knives." Sorel sent a burst of kitchen knives of various sizes at Pete. He deflected most of them with what he was holding, but a bread knife caught him in the bicep, forcing him to drop the mop. This made it easier for Sorel to land smaller knives in each leg, causing Pete to drop to one knee and cry out in pain. "Now, Peter, are you paying attention? Because you have to use a sawing motion…"

He was interrupted by the door near the previous location of the coffins simply falling off of its hinges. A cloud of steam poured from the room, and Patrick strolled in, staring at what used to be a shotgun. "That isn't how this is supposed to work, buuuut okay."

Sorel simply stared. "You melted the hinges, you fool. How is it supposed to work?"

"Oh, yeah, I did. Cool." Patrick looked up. "You okay, Pete?"

"I have like, four knives in my arm and legs. Do I have to answer?"

"No." Patrick sidestepped as a bleeding Dandy hurtled through the doorway, followed by Joe and Andrew, who were not hurtling. "Hey guys, guess what this weapon does?"

"Uh, torture Pete?" Joe asked, staring at Pete, who was trying and failing to pull the bread knife from his arm. Sorel was telekinetically not allowing Pete to do more than saw through his own muscles a little.

"Better. It melts stuff made of some types of metals." Patrick shot the gun in Sorel's general direction. The knives in Pete melted, as well as the head of the pickaxe, the hinges on the coffin-shields, and the corkscrew that Sorel had lifted for use on Patrick.

"Having melted metal in Peter's arms and legs is probably no better for him," Sorel stated helpfully.

"It hurts like hell, but I can move again." Pete noticed that the pick-less pickaxe now resembled a large stake. "Hey Sorel, what does this remind you of?"

"Er, your friends unconscious?" Nobody noticed the rolling pin that he had moved around the room. It cracked across Andrew's skull, knocking him into Joe, knocking both out.

"Great, now I'm alone with Sorel and a cranky, wounded Pete," Patrick complained, drawing his crossbow and some stakes.

"Maybe launching stakes through the air isn't a good idea against a telekinetic vampire," Pete suggested, attacking the coffins in an effort to break through to Sorel.

"See, Peter? I taught you a few things after all."

* * *

**Now mind your manners and review. And don't worry about Joe and Andrew. They'll be fine. Probably.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. I'm two quarters and a heart down.**

**More utensils attack! And a melon baller!

* * *

**

"What are you doing?" Pete paused from his coffin attacking and looked over at Patrick, who was standing still and looked pensive.

"I'm forming a strategy!" Patrick responded quickly.

"Which will take up how much valuable time?"

"…quiet. You're distracting me."

Sorel ignored their little argument and opened a drawer. He floated a pizza cutter up in the air. "I'm not quite sure what this is, but it looks good and sharp!" He quickly glanced at either of the boys and flung it towards Patrick. Pete jumped forward in the nick of time and grabbed it.

"You grabbed it by the blade," Sorel pointed out, smiling at Pete's hand; which had a deep gash on it now. "Splendid move."

"Ow. That's going to hurt in a minute after the shock is gone." Pete commented as he tossed the sharp instrument aside.

Sorel opened the cupboards and scanned his selection of possible throwing weapons with one hand on his chin. "Ah!" He levitated a few wine glasses and tossed them at Pete and Patrick at the same time.

"Ouch! Hell!" Patrick used his arms as a shield for his valuable head.

Pete dashed forward while the wine glasses made impact with himself and Patrick, hoping to get through the coffin shields and to Sorel, ignoring a drop of blood dripping down his forehead from the wine glasses. Charging forward with all his might, he broke through the coffins and made impact into Sorel, sending both of them crashing into the wall.

"Ugh! Get off of me, urchin!" Sorel telekinetically threw Pete off of him and into the opposite wall as he got up and straightened out his suit. He looked up just in time to quickly form a shield in front of his chest, where a wooden stake was flying at it from Patrick's direction. He tossed it in Pete's direction, neatly widening a hole in his leg where a knife had been. Pete cried out in pain as he pulled the stake from his legs. Luckily, he now had two stakes of different lengths to skewer Sorel with. He then quickly dodged many pieces of 3 different can openers that Sorel had mentally dismantled. Sorel stared at the melon baller he had found, orbiting a large meat cleaver around himself for defense. "This utensil looks promising." He tossed it at Patrick's belly.

"Whoa!" Patrick grabbed a lid that had fallen off of a coffin and shielded himself at the last second.

Out of the corner of his eye, Patrick caught movement from Joe and Andrew. Joe began to rise, rubbing the back of his head. "Daaaamn…I have the worst headache. Again…"

Patrick helped him up. "Yeah, you got whacked pretty hard."  
Andrew began to rise as well. "OW...what the fuck? What hit me?"

"A rolling pin," Pete answered, keeping his eyes on Sorel.

"Ugh…I hate being whacked in the head really hard," Andrew commented.

"TELL me about it!" came an angry-sounding voice from the doorway. Livington walked in, looking slightly disheveled; his hair was messy and chaotic under his fedora.

"Hey, I thought I hit you hard enough that you'd be out for at least an hour or so!" Pete said.

"NO, you just hit me hard enough to PISS ME OFF!" Livington lost his British accent and usual polite disposition.

Joe turned around and faced Livington, striking a ready-to-fight stance. "I can take you, I'm not afraid of bats like some pussies I know," Joe stated, turning his head slightly towards Andrew.

"Ignoring that," Andrew turned to Sorel. "Hey! Sordid! Catch!" Andrew tossed his rapier towards Sorel's torso. Sorel made a shield at the last minute and began to levitate the rapier telekinetically and sighed. "When _will_ you all learn?"

"About the same time you will!" Pete took the opportunity of Sorel's distraction and dashed behind him. He grabbed Sorel and threw him with all his strength across the room and into the wall. Sorel made impact with a crack.

Sorel rose slowly. When he was straightened up, Pete watched him to see what he would do next. Sorel brought a hand to his face, where a cut was forming under the eye where the monocle usually was. The monocle had shattered.

"You little SHITHEAD! You shattered my monocle!" Sorel looked enraged, and had also lost any hint of his usual manners and British accent in his anger.

Andrew stared at Sorel and picked up his rapier. "You know, since you lieutenants lose your British accent every time you get angry, now I'm really sure you're not _actually_ British."

* * *

**I think Andrew may be righto.**

**Review. DO IT.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. I don't suffer from insanity. I enjoy every minute of it.**

**Livington's back in the game. But for how long? And Sorel is still pretty pissed.**

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Livington kept his stare on Joe and Andrew. "I guess I'm going to be the one to take you two stooges down," Livington threw his hand up in the air. "Smile pretty for my lovelies!" A swarm of bats entered the room through the open doorway.

"AHH! No! Not again!" Andrew half-squealed. "I hate bats!"

"Calm down! We'll just…I don't know! We'll get the bats away!" Joe swatted the air with his fists, trying to get the bats away.

"Get 'em away! Aagh!" Andrew waved his rapier around in the air. It grazed Joe's hair, taking a few hairs off.

"WHOA! Watch yourself!" Joe looked like he was near hitting Andrew himself. He turned to Livington. "That's…enough…with…the BATS!" Joe punched Livington, who went flying back through the doorway his bats came out of. They followed their master.

Joe looked surprised. "Whoooaaa…I punched him really hard."

Andrew looked up. "Yeah, that's something I expected from Pete,"

Pete shook his head slowly, having observed Joe's action. "It's really something I wanted to do,"

"PETE! Focus!" Patrick stumbled over to Pete.

"What? Sorel isn't doing anything. He's just sitting there."

"And he's really pissed!" Patrick watched as Joe and Andrew went to follow Livington.

Sorel finally stood up. "Oh…you little punks…are going to get it NOW!" Sorel turned to the cabinets. Using his powers, the cabinets slowly began to rip out of the wall. When he had them completely out, he tossed a few at Pete and Patrick.

"I told you he was pissed!" Patrick dodged one cabinet with ease; Sorel was too furious to be able to toss objects with as much accuracy as usual.

"Oh, big deal," Pete grabbed one of the cabinets and tossed it back at Sorel, but Sorel regained himself as much to be able to shield it. The unattached cabinet splintered, and sharp shards of painted wood rocketed back into Pete, who blocked his face with his forearms. "OW! WHAT THE HELL! Is it 'fill Pete with sharp objects' day or something?"

"RAARAWRRAHHH!" Sorel tore loose a minibar and opened it up. Small bottles of blood began to fly at Pete and Patrick, showering them in vampire food storage.

Patrick looked at his blood-covered body. "That's DISGUSTING!" He fired a stake at Sorel, who moved the miniature fridge so that the stake just flew inside that. When the shelves were empty, Sorel just tossed the whole appliance at Pete, still screaming incoherently. Pete caught it, but fell over due to its weight.

"Hell, this is heavier than you, Patrick."

"That was uncalled for!" Patrick shot another stake. Sorel had been distracted by tearing large blades from a garbage dispose-all, and didn't see it coming in time to shield himself. He dodged, but the stake caught him in the leg.

Sorel screamed in pain. "DAMN you runts!"

Livington signaled his bats, and they started to fly over to Pete and Patrick. "Sorel, I'll distract them! Throw something else!"  
"Oh, no you don't!" Joe jumped in front of Livington and threw another punch, but Livington dodged to the side.

"Sorel, hurry up!"

Sorel seemed oblivious to Livington, though. Livington was going to shout more at Sorel, and didn't notice that Joe picked up a stake that was lying on the ground. "You know what? I have SO had enough of you and your CREEPY bats!" Joe jumped at Livington, who turned around in surprise. Livington was about to defend himself, but it was too late. Joe shoved the stake deep into Livington's chest, straight into the heart.

Joe took a step back as Livington let out one shriek of pain and coughed up a mouthful of blood before flopping to the ground, dead. Joe looked down at Livington, a triumphant smile making its way across his face. "Hell yeah! I got him! Andrew did you see that? I killed the batty lieutenant! So we're even now!"

Andrew looked defiant. "Yeah, but my killing Vulcan was much more dramatic."

"Was not!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"That's great, you guys! You killed Livington! Now can you help us out here!" Patrick yelled at Joe and Andrew.

"Well, we're right here. You don't have to yell!" Andrew said.

"And _I _was the one that killed Livington!" Joe stated.

"Besides, can't the two of you take Sorbet?" Andrew asked.

"Not when he's all crazy like this!" Pete ducked to avoid an airborne drawer of measuring tools. "We can't get close!"

The Baron appeared at the doorway. He looked around and coughed disdainfully. "Honestly, Sorel, I leave you in charge for an hour or so while I go get a bite and I come back to this! You're a horrible house-sitter."

Sorel managed to mostly compose himself, though he still looked disheveled and angry. "I'm sorry, master. Peter here broke my monocle, and I was trying so hard to get revenge on him and Patrick for it that I didn't even notice Livington dying and the room falling apart."

The Baron just chuckled. "That's quite all right, Sorel. It's not like I'm going to miss Livington or anything. Besides, this isn't my last house."

Patrick stopped wiping blood off his face. "You still have more houses?"

"Yes, I had a house for each season. I still have two left." He turned to Peter. "If you can find an unused, unbroken coffin left in here, you're welcome to it. However, do keep in mind that this place will explode in..." he looked at his watch, "about four mintues." Everybody just stared at him, except Sorel, who was busy stealing the rings off Livington's fingers. "What? Is it _surprising_ to you that all my houses are rigged with a '5 minute countdown to selfdestruct' sequence? Hurry up, Sorel, we don't want to get our coats dirty."

"Righto, sir." Sorel slipped the rings onto his fingers, straightened his jacket, and telekinetically cracked Andrew and Patrick's heads together as he followed The Baron out the door. "Ta."

Pete began frantically searching through the nearby rooms, as Joe attempted to wake his friends. Pete walked back in with an empty coffin, as Patrick sat up woozily. "Is this coffin booby-trapped in any way?"

Patrick looked at it, rubbing his head. "No, I don't think so." Joe succeeded in waking Andrew, who moaned a little and stopped the slight bleeding on his forehead.

"C'mon, we kinda have to go." Joe pointed the way out to Andrew and Patrick (who were still a little concussed), and to Pete (who had woken up already inside).

"Right." Pete was the last out, because he stopped to kick the anonymous Dandies he had beaten earlier. As he walked out the front door, a 30-second countdown started. They almost got smacked by a flying window frame as the house exploded behind him. "That was fun," Pete observed, using the coffin to shield himself from the setting sun. "I'm wiped, let's go home."

"But before we get started on the way back, I _really _need to relieve myself!" Andrew was squirming and standing in a funny position. Joe laughed at him.

"Too much information, Andrew." Patrick commented.

"Sorry. I'll do that, then we can walk off together into the sunset like friends do in those stupid movies." Andrew jumped behind a nearby bush.

"Gonna need a montage! With music!" Joe sang.

* * *

**Sorel is so mean. Pete is, too...**

**Mad props to Joe for the Livington slaying.**

**They need a Best Friends Forever style montage. Next chapter: The Fall Out Boys go get some fuel at the local BBQ fast food joint! How fun.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. I'm not wearign any pants, film at eleven!**

**No, actually, I'm wearing very secure pants.

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**

Pete stepped up to the counter. The clerk, whose name tag proudly stated "Fred at The Smoky Pig", looked slightly bored as he asked Pete without looking up, "Welcome to the Smoky Pig. What would you like to order today?"

"Uh…yeah…I'll have one order of the Pork Poppers, one order of the Beef Nuggets, one Ribs o' Plenty, and one Beans & Bratwurst."

The clerk looked up to ask for drinks, and he realized that Pete was a vampire by his teeth. "AAAH! Oh my god! You can have the food free! Just leave the Employee of the Month alone this time!"

Pete looked confused. "What? Oh…I'm not going to attack you, I just want-"

The clerk interrupted by throwing drink cups at him. "HERE! Free drinks too! Take your food! Just go! AAH!" The clerk ran into the kitchen.

"I…uh…cool," Pete took a step back and took the food before walking back to his friends. "Man, that clerk is jumpy."

"Yeah, why do you think we had you order?" Joe said, grabbing the food.

"WHAT?"

"Uh, nothing, where are the drinks?" Joe turned around and avoided saying anymore by putting the food down. He nudged Andrew, who was doubled over with laughter at the antics. Pete ignored them and looked out of the big floor to ceiling windows that lined the barbecue style fast food joint. In the light, Pete flinched when he saw, for what felt like the millionth time, his three friends' reflections showing up in the windows. He had none, despite his being inches away from the glass.

"Hey! Since I can't see it, someone fix my curiosity need and tell me how I look right now." Pete said to his goofy friends.

"You look like crap. How long has it been since you changed that sweatshirt?" Joe giggled as he talked.

"Since…earlier."

Patrick picked up the food bag and began walking out. "We shouldn't eat here. That clerk is freaking out." Patrick looked at the terrified clerk, who had crawled under the counter.

"Fine. It's about 8:00 p.m. anyway, so time-wise we're good," Pete followed Patrick, and Andrew and Joe followed Pete.

The clerk looked up over the counter, shivering. When he realized they were completely gone, he stopped shivering in an instant. He took out his cell phone and speed dialed a number.

The clerk waited for the other line to pick up, tapping his fingers impatiently, and sighed in relief when they finally answered. "Yeah, this is Sorel, right? Okay good. Yeah, they came here…Yeah. They just ordered food… Well, if I had to guess, I think the easiest to control would be the guy who they seem to call 'Andrew'. He's got glasses, long hair, and the sword…why? 'Cause he's an IDIOT, that's why! Yeah…yeah, that Joe guy is an idiot too, but it'll be easier to have him just go after the others with a sword then make him do martial art crap." The clerk played with a packet of barbecue sauce while talking. "Okay, I filled my end of the bargain, I even acted all scared of them and stuff! When do I get to be one of you? WHAT DO YOU MEAN 'IN DUE TIME'?" The clerk's question was answered with a click from the other end. 'Fred' slammed his fist down in frustration, splattering barbecue sauce up his uniform and face in a thin vertical line.

* * *

Pete sat on the couch, fiddling with his bass guitar. "I wonder how long it will be until we get attacked again…"

"Hey! Don't jinx us! We're relaxing right now." Patrick sat beside him with a soda and turned on the little TV on the coffee table.

"Yeah really, Pete," Joe walked in with his guitar around his neck on the strap. "Has anyone seen Andrew? He was here a minute ago."

"Did he say he was going anywhere?" Pete asked.

"Yeah, in the training room, but that was an hour ago."

Pete shrugged and put his bass down, getting up to gather up the ingredients for another dose of Patrick's "concoction". When he was over at his little counter, he suddenly dropped his ingredients as his face turned to one of shock and pain.

Patrick noticed this when he looked over after Pete dropped the ingredients. Pete reached his right arm behind his shoulder, and pulled Andrew's rapier out from his left shoulder. He tossed the now-slightly-bloodied rapier aside and whirled around to face Andrew, furious. "ANDREW! What the HELL! Are you drunk!"

Andrew stood still, his face blank, and said nothing. Suddenly, he face twitched into a look of anger, and he charged Pete. It caught Pete by surprise, and they both went toppling onto the counter. Pete pushed Andrew off, hard enough to send him back a few feet but light enough to leave him unharmed. "OH YEAH…you're drunk!"

Patrick and Joe had come over. Patrick looked closer at Andrew. "I don't think he's drunk. I think he's…hypnotized or something!"

Andrew growled at them and grabbed his rapier, swinging at all three at once. They dodged, Patrick and Joe stepped back and Pete ducked, coming back up and grabbing for the rapier. He took hold of the handle with one hand and Andrew's other hand with the other.

"Andrew! Snap out of it! Don't make me hurt you!" Pete let go and jumped back as Andrew shot a high kick at Pete's torso.

"That's not going to work, Pete! He's totally out of it!" Patrick commented.

"RAAH!" Andrew swung his rapier at Patrick specifically with his right hand, and used his left to quickly shove Joe into Pete. Patrick used his crossbow as a shield.

Joe jumped from behind Pete and grabbed Andrew's left arm, wielding his guitar in his other arm as a weapon. Andrew turned around, and quickly drew his rapier across Joe's arm. Joe shouted in pain and stumbled back, dropping the guitar, which broke as Andrew charged forward.

"I did _not _want do this, Andrew…" Pete charged Andrew and tackled him, hard enough that he went flying back and into a wall, hitting it headfirst and knocking him out.

"What the CRAP was that all about!" Patrick asked, grabbing the first aid kit as Joe just stared at his bleeding arm.

"I have a guess," Pete growled, as he went back to making his concoction, picking chopped garlic up off the floor.

"Uhhhh…" Andrew woke up and got up on his hands and knees. "Andrew, Andrew, Andrew, you have GOT to lay off the booze…" he looked up, and saw everybody staring at him, Joe and Pete bleeding. "What did I miss?"

"The Baron must've hypnotized you," Pete informed him, chugging the reddish, soupy mixture.

"CRAP! Is he still in the house?"

Everyone looked at each other. "Do... you… think… he's actually… in the house?" Joe asked. Then he screamed as he finally started to feel the pain.

Patrick and Pete hurriedly checked all the rooms, looking for The Baron or Sorel. "He's not here," Patrick said, satisfied.

"That means he can hypnotize from a distance," Pete concluded. "We can't just sit around and wait for it to happen again. We have to find The Baron!"

"Then what?" Andrew asked, getting some ice for his bruised head.

"Then we kill him."

"And Sorel, too," Patrick added, grabbing a bunch of high-tech large gun-type thingies.

Joe looked at his wound. "Without us?"

"Yeah, we can't take you or Andrew. You're in no shape to go." Pete responded. Joe pouted, much like a little kid. Then he looked over at Andrew. "Andrew's in no shape to go? All he did is bump his head."

Joe, Pete, and Patrick all turned to Andrew. Andrew was smiling and waving his hand in front of his face. "Whoa! It looks like I'm holding up two hands at once!"

* * *

**I shall deem "Fred" Rent-a-Clerk for the time being.**

**Wow, we're reaching the end of this soon...as far as a sequel would go, I'm undecided.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I own very little within, and I don't own Fall Out Boy. If you do, I'll pay you 7.50 for them. It's buy 2, get 2 free.**

**Halloween approaches...as does the end...I think I'll end it either Chapter 17 or 18, I haven't decided yet. Probably 18. Oh, by the way, have you SEEN the Fall Out Boy dollies due to come out soon?! They're kind of ew! The Pete one looks volatile! And the Joe one is depressed! No offense to the boys but... except for the Patrick one. It looked... well, I thought it mildly huggable.**

* * *

"This is the place," Patrick whispered, twisting dials on his biggest weapon, which looked like a black bazooka with a satellite dish welded to one end, and a large balloon attached to the other. The dials were labeled things like 'treble', 'balance', and 'shockwave'. Pipes and tubs ran wildly across the top and side. Patrick, apparently satisfied, hefted it up on his shoulder, holding both handles, one of which had a big red trigger on it. 

"No crap it's the place," Pete responded impatiently, staring through binoculars at The Baron's home, which seemed more like a fortress. Ten Dandies stood by the front door, toting shotguns, assault rifles, and a sniper rifle. Twelve more loitered by the fountain out front, armed with broadswords, axes, daggers, stakes, shields, a halberd, a set of ninja claws, and a sledgehammer. Pete also thought that the fallen angel statue in the fountain looked like it concealed a missile launcher. "The Baron's really pulling out all the stops. He knows this is the grand finale."

"Luckily," Patrick chuckled, "we have a few tricks left of our own."

"Yeah, why didn't you tell us you had a homemade high-carnage anti-tank weapon?"

"The Baron doesn't use tanks," Patrick responded, tweaking the targeting system. "He uses well-dressed vampires. Besides, this is a very bad idea when we're fighting in enclosed spaces."

They started the plan, Pete walked into the open where the heavily armed Dandies could see him, armed only with his fists, several stakes, and a SWAT team bulletproof shield. He set the shield in front of him as The Dandies raised their weapons, grinning evilly. Pete slowly began to advance, his shield absorbing shotgun and rifle fire (the melee guys were waiting for the shooting to stop before attacking). However, a bullet from the sniper rifle pierced the shield and grazed Pete's arm. Everyone grinned as he swore in pain. Then the chest of the statue opened up, revealing missiles. _Patrick owes me 5 dollars,_ Pete thought. "Patrick, do it NOW!"

"Firing the Sonic Reverb Cannon!" Patrick shouted happily, springing from the bushes and pulling the trigger. Pete jumped back to avoid the blast. The Dandies screamed in horror at the distortion in the air rushing toward them. When it hit, it exploded loudly outward. As the smoke cleared, Pete walked into the massacre, to see what happened. The Dandies were all dead, their weapons, suits, and skin all shredded, as if the air itself had attacked them with a storm of blades. The fountain was rubble, occasionally shooting up a column of water and cement chunks as the missiles exploded under it. The front of the mansion suffered a similar fate: it was burnt, slashed, cratered, and all the windows were smashed. Patrick followed Pete to the front door, carrying his various weaponry and gadgets. "I am so getting a military patent for this!"

* * *

"4 Aces," Sorel announced calmly. All the other Dandies stared. Sorel _always_ won at Texas Hold-'em. To add insult to injury, he wasn't even enthusiastic about it. Grumbling, everybody shoved their money (and one gold watch) over to where Sorel was sitting. Sorel sighed as he stuffed the cash into his jacket pockets. "This is so boring." 

Suddenly, the door burst open. Pete was standing in the door. "More Dandies? One of these days I'm going to consider getting sick of this."

In response, all the Dandies at the table except for Sorel got up and charged Pete and Patrick. Sorel was too busy stuffing money in his pockets to do anything.

Pete used two stakes at once and took care of two advancing Dandies at once. Patrick took out his faithful old crossbow and also shot down three Dandies within a minute. He crouched down, and spun his feet in a circle, tripping one particularly quick Dandy on his face, where he was instantly staked.

"Patrick, I had no idea you had physical skill." Pete commented, jumping in the air and hanging onto a dusty chandelier.

"Ignoring that…"

Pete jumped off the chandelier and landed a drop kick on one Dandy. He spun around and threw one into another, grabbing the mace of the one he tossed and brained them both while they while down, ignoring a small spatter of blood on the pocket of his white hoodie. One more Dandy came at Pete with a katana, cutting a wide horizontal slash. Pete flipped over the Dandy swordsmen, and backhanded him as he turned around. The Dandy dropped the katana, and Pete grabbed it, staking the would-be samurai vampire with his own sword. Pete looked at Sorel, who had finished wadding money into his jacket, and was gathering up the cards (including some extra aces from under his fedora).

"I wanted to play Solitaire anyway…" He looked up, to see Pete and Patrick imminently threatening his life. "You two chaps go right ahead and fight The Baron. I won't try to stop you." He floated the cards above his head as he shuffled them. "It's not like I actually _like_ William or anything."

"The Baron's name is WILL?"

"Yes… but you didn't hear it from me."

"Uhhhh… thanks?" They went on through. Sorel produced The Baron's spare fedora from under the table and looked at it thoughtfully.

"I wonder…"

* * *

**What is Sorel thinking? Actually, I probably don't want to know. WHOA, my brother practically wrote this whole chapter. I can't even remember the part I wrote...let me think, I know I came in somewhere...but I musn't worry, the most of next chapter will be me, except for a little action.**

**Beware of Chapter 16...Pete and Patrick are going to get whooped a bit.**

**'Kay bye.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. Ask me about a fabulous career in bitching.**

**Happy Still Not Halloween!**

**Okay, look, Pete and Patrick are going to get whumped pretty good in this chapter. Wow, the story is going to be done fairly soon... does anybody want a sequel? Because I need to know now to get enough time to think of a good title. Maybe "Nobody Puts Fanfic In The Corner" or "The Patron Saint of Authors and Fanfics". No, the last one is stupid...**

* * *

Patrick and Pete walked cautiously into a large room with a spiral staircase leading up in the middle. Patrick looked around at the priceless works of art in the room; marble statues, colorful paintings, and painted vases. Pete began absentmindedly throwing a cylindrical crystal ornament from over a fireplace up in the air. 

"This is certainly what I call a privacy invasion…" The Baron began stepping down the staircase slowly and with purpose. In surprise, Pete dropped the crystal ball and it crashed to the floor, sending tiny shards of glass flying. He and Patrick inched slightly nearer to each other.

Pete cleared his throat and straightened up into more of a fighting stance. "We're here to-"

"Engage in my ultimate downfall?" The Baron interrupted.

Pete smiled. "Yeah. That's about the size of it!"

The Baron adjusted his fedora slightly. "This is going to be quite fun! I've been waiting for this."

"And I've been waiting for this." Patrick pulled out his Sonic Reverb Cannon, which he had been wearing on his back. He hoisted it onto his shoulder and took aim at The Baron.

"What is that hideous instrument? Is it a weapon?"

"You bet. It's a _sound-based_ weapon, and it already took out nearly 2 dozen of your guards." He was twiddling with a couple of knobs.

"So what? Peter here has taken down over 6 dozen of The Dandies with his bare hands, and a few stakes." The Baron did notice Pete edging away from the path of the cannon, however.

"I forgot to mention I took them all down in one shot." Patrick fired the cannon, and the pulse of sound and air rushed straight towards The Baron. The evil vampire straightened his fedora and thrust his hands forward, into the maelstrom.

"SIILLEEENNNCCE!" The Baron screamed. Instantly, it was as if Pete and Patrick had gone deaf. They couldn't hear the sounds of each other readying their other weapons anymore, nor could they hear The Baron. The deadly pulse rushing toward The Baron died down instantly, and The Baron waited a second before straightening up. As he did, his white gloves disintegrated around his hands, falling to shreds and dust. He snapped his fingers, and Pete and Patrick's hearing returned as quickly as it had left. "I kept my power to call for silence secret, for just such a situation. Quite an impressive weapon, Patrick. However, for obvious reasons, I must kill you." The Baron teleported to right in front of Patrick, knocked away his crossbow, and grabbed his neck, all in one fluid motion. He lifted Patrick into the air, choking him, and the skin on Patrick's neck began to burn.

Suddenly, Pete tackled The Baron, knocking Patrick free, and began pummeling him. "Don't-ever-do-that-again!" He yelled, adding a new word with each punch.

"Yeah, Baron, what was with the smoke choke?" Patrick gasped, rubbing some sort of burn cream on his throat.

"It's _THE_ BARON!" Angrily grabbing Pete's fist, he kneed Pete in the gut, and shoved him back, burning his chest. He blinked behind Pete and shoved him back forward, burning his back. He blinked to the side of Pete and landed a vicious haymaker to the side of Pete's head, knocking him over sideways and burning his sweater's hood. He blinked again and uppercut Pete, burning his chin and sending him upwards. Finally, he blinked above Pete and drove a double-fisted hammer blow into Pete's face, slamming him back to the ground. The Baron landed cleanly on Pete's back, and stomped him again just for good measure. "Sometimes, Peter, I think grooming you to be my right-hand man is more trouble than it's worth." He grabbed a crossbow stake out of the air. "Patrick, Patrick, Patrick," he chuckled. "What are you doing still alive?" He teleported in front of Patrick again, but Patrick had guessed The Baron's move this time, and had already reared back to land a massive punch on The Baron's eye. Pete then dashed between Patrick and The Baron.

The Baron paused. "Oh, dear...it appears we have a visitor."

Pete turned around to see what he was talking about. In the doorway stood the clerk from the barbecue resteraunt.

Patrick opened his mouth in shock. "It's Rent-A-Clerk! What are you doing here?"

"THAT'S NOT MY NAME! My name is Harold!" He shouted in response.

Pete narrowed his eyes. "Harold? But your name tag said 'Fred'."

"I was borrowing his uniform."

"Why? What did you do to Fred?" Patrick looked slightly worried.

"Well, I just…" Harold stopped. "_It's not important_!" he yelled.

Pete flinched from his holler. "Aren't you the loud one today…"

"SHUT UP!" The vampire wanna-be clerk took out a gun.

Pete rolled his eyes. "Do you really think that's going to do much?"

Patrick looked sympathetically at Harold. "Why are you trying to be a Dandy, kid? How old are you? You look no older than sixteen. You can do other things with your…death."

Harold smiled evilly and poised his gun at Pete's torso. "For all you know, I've been _sixteen _for eighty years!" He fired a shot and Pete dodged, letting the bullet go behind him and into The Baron's shoulder. The Baron seemed like he almost didn't notice for a few seconds. Then, seemingly unharmed, he reached up with his other arm and pulled out the bullet, dropping it on the floor and sighing. "You really don't know _any _form of fighting or weaponry, do you, Harold?"

Pete looked behind Harold. "HOLY SHIT!"

"What?!" Harold whipped his head around to see what had supposedly surprised Pete. In a second though, Pete was in front of Harold and shoving a stake through his heart. Harold had time for one scream of pain.

Pete grinned maliciously. "Man, that was the oldest trick in the book!"

Patrick looked at Harold, who was gurgling as blood poured down his shirt. "Y'know, Pete, I don't think Rent-a-Clerk was a vampire. Which would mean his comment about being sixteen for eighty years made no sense..."

"Oh… well, he was pretending to be one. So… he deserved it!"

* * *

**Say goodnight, Rent-A-Clerk. He's gullible.**

**Byebye.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Happy Halloween! But I'm sure you've heard that already today. And as a special Halloween treat, VULCAN is doing my disclaimer!**

**------**

**Vulcan: She owns very VERY _very VERY_ little within. I AM THE PUMPKIN KING!**

**Yellowfur: He wishes.**

**Vulcan: You DOUBT _ME_?!**

**Yellowfur: Aw, CRAP! (-runs like the wind, or tries to-)**

* * *

"It's too bad you already took care of one pawn…" The Baron looked slightly disappointed. "But I still have one more at my disposal!" 

Upon that last note, Pete and Patrick whipped their heads to the door, which burst open revealing the same female vampire that was the leader of the Punk group that attacked Pete, Patrick, Joe, and Andy in their warehouse. Her eyes were a blank gray, the same that Andrew's were when he was hypnotized to turn against his friends.

Pete looked over at The Baron, even more hate and anger burning in his eyes than before.

The Baron let out a chuckle. "Oh no, I will admit, taking over your friend was far more fun, or rather...a test of my own skills. I fancied a simple test to see how far away my hypnotism could work."

Pete held his stake at his side, his fists clenching. "So that's what Andrew was? A test subject?"

"Obviously so." The Baron's blasé tone seemed to anger Pete even more, but before Pete could attack, the female officer made her move, jumping towards Pete and Patrick, growling.

Pete's look of anger turned slightly into a look of boredom. "I so do not have time for this." He dodged the hypnotized girl's first attack. She did not have her whip with her, but had substituted it with a pair of vicious looking brass knuckles on each hand, which both had a sharp dagger on the middle of each.

"WHOA! Where'd you get those? What happened to the whip?" Pete blocked the unarmed part of her hand with his calve.

Patrick watched the weapons. "Pete, remind me to steal those later,"

"Will do!" Pete jumped out of the blocking stance and grabbed the girl's arm. He spun her a few times and flung her into a painting with a glass frame, which smashed to pieces instantly. She got up instantly, looking unfazed by the crash and charged towards Pete again.

"It's too bad there are no windows in here, otherwise I would use that to get out of this fight quickly…" Pete dodged her blows while simultaneously trying to look around for a quick escape.

Patrick shot his crossbow directly at the girl's torso. She saw it coming and dodged, but a sharp stake got her in the leg. She paused to reach down and pull it out, but while she was occupied, Patrick shot a red, glowing net out of one of his netting guns. She collapsed in a tangle of nets, hissing.

The Baron let out a sigh of exasperation. "Honestly, you're no help! Can't I get a good…" He looked up pensively, thinking of the right word. "A meat puppet, if you will."

A latched, wooden door on the middle of the carpeted floor caught Pete's eye. He broke open the door, picked up the punk officer, and dumped her inside. He shut the door, latching it closed again. "That should keep her quiet for a little while, at least."

Patrick blinked. "How are we going to get her brass knuckles?"

"Later," Pete said through his teeth, turning his attention back to The Baron, who was already gone. Pete turned around and punched, but The Baron grabbed his arm (burning it), and grabbed his side (burning that, too). Pete's sweater fell apart, leaving him in a T-shirt and jeans. "That was my favorite hoodie!" He tried to jump-kick The Baron, but the rich, British vampire grabbed his leg, and punched Pete hard in the gut, burning his jeans and knocking him across the room. Pete got up, and tossed a marble bust of somebody with a beard at The Baron, who caught it.

"Now see here, Peter, this is a $10,000 sculpture!" He quickly used it to block a stake fired from Patrick's crossbow. "But what's $10,000 anyway?" He clubbed the charging Pete over the head with the damaged sculpture, smashing it completely, and knocking Pete to the ground. He then blinked over behind Patrick, who swung forward with a stake. "Sorry, Patrick, but I'm behind you." He punched Patrick hard in the back of the head, and the gadget boy went down and stayed down.

"Get away from him!" Pete tackled The Baron, and pulled a large stake out of his pocket. It was big, silver, engraved with runes, and most of all, shiny. He tried to stake The Baron, but The Baron was suddenly on top of him.

"Bad idea, Peter," The Baron warned, grabbing the back of his head and causing his hair to light on fire. Pete shook free, rolled to put his hair out, and turned around. The Baron was behind him again. Pete tried to punch The Baron, but The Baron laughed and grabbed his arm again, holding it to his chest. "You'll lose your arms and legs like this, Peter. Do you think you have any possibilities of beating me?"

Pete gritted his teeth. "I can think of one!" He drove the stake through his own arm, into The Baron's chest. Screaming in pain, he tore his arm off the stake, and plunged it deeper into the stunned vampire lord's chest. The Baron simply looked down in horror at the stake poking out from his smoking chest.

Patrick slowly got to his feet. "Pete, you… you BEAT THE BARON!"

"You… staked me," The Baron muttered.

Pete stared at him. "You aren't supposed to be still alive."

"I'M GOING TO MURDER YOU!" The Baron roared. Surprisingly, he still sounded British.

* * *

**This would be classified as "not good", Patrick.**

**Next chapter: The Baron goes into an overdrive mode, and is this a blessing or a curse? The stench of death will be heavy in that room.**

**Wow, that sounded ominous. Anyways, I'm off to get familiar with half my weight in candy.**

**'Kay bye.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: I own very little within. Yellow.**

**IT'S THE END! (bumbumbummmm)**

**I bring you what would be the lovely cast of my story:**

**Pete- himself**

**Patrick- himself**

**Joe- himself**

**Andrew- himself!**

**The Baron- William Beckett from The Academy Is...**

**Vulcan- Brendon Urie from Panic! At The Disco**

**Livington- Ryan Ross from Panic! At The Disco**

**Sorel- Nicholas Cage**

**"Fred"/Harold- Gregory Smith (an actor)**

As for the story, there will be blood. As for Patrick, stand by. As for Joe and Andrew, stand by. As for Pete, stand the pain. Ah yes, poor Pete. Somebody get him a band-aid! But that's all I'm going to tell you until the story starts.

* * *

No, I'm totally kidding about Sorel. He'd be played by the actor Scott Wolfe. Or something.

* * *

The Baron knocked the stake out of his torso. His eyes were wild, and he dashed towards Pete. He was too delirious to use his teleportation powers, but he had become incredibly fast nonetheless.

Shocked, Pete stood planted firmly in the middle of the room.

Patrick stood up. "Pete, MOVE!"

His words seemed to awaken Pete, who dodged out of The Baron's path of destruction. The Baron narrowly avoided going straight into the wall. He veered around, and charged again, even faster than before. The Baron slammed with great force into Pete's back, and Pete went flying into the stone fireplace headfirst. He collapsed on the ground and lay motionless.

Strangely enough though, he seemed satisfied enough with just letting Pete lay there and ran over to Patrick. In defense, Patrick raised his crossbow as a shield in front of his face. The Baron swiftly smacked it with the back of his hand, and it snapped in two. Patrick stepped back and took out his netting gun and reached behind him for his Sonic Reverb Cannon. The Baron grabbed the netting gun and tossed it across the room, shattering it into a dozen pieces when it hit the wall. The second Patrick had his Sonic Reverb Cannon out in front of him, The Baron grabbed it and began pulling it apart bit by bit.

"Man, what the HELL?! These are all my weapons you're pulling apart!" Patrick looked very exasperated as he reached in his pockets and pulled out three plain wooden stakes. The Baron flashed in front of Patrick, leaving behind the mangled parts of the Sonic Reverb Cannon. He grabbed the stakes and cracked them all in half at once.

Patrick drew a garlic grenade, and The Baron kicked that, and it exploded on the ceiling. Patrick drew his metal-melting shotgun, and The Baron placed a hand on each of Patrick's shoulders (burning them), and sank his teeth into the shotgun, tearing it out of Patrick's grip. He spat it out, and kicked Patrick in the collarbone, sending him skidding across the room. The Baron was waiting for Patrick when he got there, and Patrick quickly came up on his knees with another garlic grenade. The Baron grabbed that, too, but Patrick was only using it as a distraction while he grabbed another stake. He thrust quickly upward, and to his surprise, he got his intended target. The Baron staggered back, staring in indignation at the two stakes protruding from his chest. Patrick blinked. The Baron wasn't horrified or angry that he had been staked twice. He was _insulted_.

The Baron slowly looked up at Patrick, and Patrick seriously considered soiling himself. Suddenly, Pete rushed past, charging The Baron. "Why aren't you in hell yet?"

This time, The Baron sidestepped Pete, and as Pete rushed past on his momentum, The Baron grabbed Pete by the back of his head, and drove him face first into the fancy floor. "What's wrong, Peter?" The Baron asked as he slammed Pete into the tiles over and over. His voice was maniacal, warped, and quite angry. "Can't you measure up?" The evil vampire stood up, still dragging Pete by the head. He lifted Pete up, and threw him like a ragdoll. Pete landed awkwardly in a corner, and slowly got to his feet.

"You're the one who can't measure up, _Willy_." The Baron roared, and charged Pete. Pete charged right back, and drew his last stake. The Baron and Pete converged on each other, and there was a deathly silence after they reached each other. The Baron looked down. He had now been staked thrice, and the new stake had driven the first even deeper. "Third time's the charm," Pete chuckled weakly. Then he began coughing up blood. He looked at his own torso. The Baron's arm had sunken deeply into his gut. Pete couldn't feel his legs, and he was pretty sure The Baron's hand had gone all the way through.

The Baron began to scream in pain as he began to burn. Falling to his knees, he began to disintegrate. Then he was gone, and the gaping hole in Pete's stomach began to bleed heavily. Only The Baron's fedora remained on the ground, and that was stained by Pete's blood.

"Pete? PETE!" Patrick ran over. The first thing he had seen was several of The Baron's fingers protruding from the back of Pete's shirt. Then The Baron was gone, and Pete, bleeding heavily, had collapsed. Patrick lightly shook Pete, who didn't respond.

"C'mon…Pete? Can you hear me? Don't…" Patrick turned Pete on his back. Blood had dripped out around Pete's mouth, and his face had already turned paler than usual. "No…damn!" Patrick bowed his head down low and covered his face with his hands. He was about to let loose and cry, but he was interrupted by a weak voice.

"Patrick, if anyone's going to cry it's going to be me."

Patrick's head shot up. "PETE! Yes! Whoa! Damn! You're alive! Yes!" Patrick put his hand on Pete's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Pete rolled his eyes and shook his head. He reached an unsteady hand and pulled up his shirt, revealing his gaping wound, which had already decreased in size slightly. "It's healing, but slowly. Hey, can you do something for me?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me what that banging noise is." In response, the basement door splintered and came open. The punk officer jumped out and growled. "That proper British ASSHOLE is SO going to get it when I…" She looked around. "Where is he?"

"The Baron?" Patrick asked.

"No, the local priest. YES The Baron, nerd!"

"He's dead."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "Who killed him?"

"Me," Pete raised his hand.

"So…" She looked around again and kicked the carpet absentmindedly. "I…won't attack you…NOW, I mean…since you're all, you know, injured and whatever." She began walking out the door.

"Hey, wait!" Patrick called out.

"What?" She sounded annoyed.

"Two things: First, what's your name?"

"Hana. What else?"

"Can I have those brass knuckles thingies?"

She looked down, as if realizing them for the first time. "HELL NO! Look at these! Awesome!" She left and slammed the door behind her.

Patrick looked down at Pete. "Can you walk?"

"Does the Pope shit in the woods?"

"Possibly. But I get your point. I'll call the others." Patrick took out his cell phone, then paused. "Joe's hand is sliced up, and Andrew is concussed. They can't drive."

"Andrew's FINE…people drive concussed all the time…"

"I think you're concussed…"

Pete ignored him and looked up at the ceiling. "Hey, Patrick?"

"Yes?"

"Isn't it really bright in here? I mean, _really _bright?"

"Nooooo…"

Pete stared at the ceiling pensively. "Then I think I'm going to pass out again."

----------

_Pete looked around in the ill-lit room. The stench of blood was almost overpowering. He felt like shouting or at least saying something, but his vocal cords wouldn't let him. A bright light clicked on behind him. Pete whipped his head around to see multiple small figures lying on the bottom of a polished wood stage. He stared in horror as the figures rose slowly on pulled strings; they were small wooden puppets, and all the figures were familiar to Pete. There were The Baron's lieutenants, the punk officer Hana, the teenage clerk, Patrick, Joe, Andrew, and Pete in the center. All the puppets were moving differently. Hana and the clerk hung limply, as if not controlled by anything. The lieutenants seemed to be sort of trying to break free, looking as if the dolls themselves were pulling to break free of the strings. Pete and his friends were dancing absentmindedly. The Joe puppet turned suddenly to Pete, and its wooden lower jaw dropped down. "PETE! Wake up!"_

"Huh what?" Pete sat up with a jolt.

"I said, wake up!" Joe was standing over him with his arms crossed, and one arm had bandages over it. "Honestly, I shouldn't have to scream more than once."

Pete looked around. He had been lying on the couch in the den of their warehouse. Andrew came over and plopped down beside him. "We carried you out of The Baron's mansion. You're light when you've lost a third of your blood."

Patrick came over and settled beside Andrew. "Joe, why'd you wake him? Waking him up early was totally unnecessary."

Pete looked at Andrew. "Andrew, why is Patrick talking over me like I'm not here?" He said loudly, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Joe sat in the slightly dirty easy chair. "Because he was twitching and stuff."

"Oh! Yeah! I was going to tell you something…" Patrick turned to Pete. "I saw something weird the other day…I was going to tell, but with all that's going on, I haven't gotten a chance."

"And…?" Pete asked.

"A bunch of vampires left town. They said they were bored and the other vampires in this town were too territorial."

"That's good!" Joe said. "The less, the better, right?"

"I agree with you. But I'm not done." Patrick responded. "The same day, a lot more came in. It looked some were vampires and some weren't. I think they were aspiring to be Dandies and I have a feeling that Harold-clerk-guy was one of them."

"And how do you know all this?" Andrew cocked his head to one side.

"Simple. I spied on them."

Pete looked at him, surprised. "Patrick! That's daring and dangerous! And so unlike you!" Pete fake-pushed him, laughing. "Cool!"

Patrick continued. "But there's another thing. The sick part was that some of them were teenagers like Harold and even some of them kids."

"Wait…who's Harold?" Joe asked.

"Remember 'Fred' the clerk from the barbecue restaurant that other day?" Pete said.

"Uhhhhh…oh yeah! The jumpy one!"

"He was a spy for the Dandies."

"Ew. I don't who to trust anymore. And what did you do to him?"

"I staked him like a vampire." Pete responded nonchalantly.

"SO, the bottom line is you can't trust anyone anymore! Not clerks, deliverymen, priests, or even girl scouts!" Patrick stated.

Andrew looked over at Patrick. "We got a visit from a girl scout when you were gone!"

"WHAT? You did?! Why didn't you say so before? We _never _even had any girl scouts in this town before!" Patrick looked worked up.

"I didn't think it was a big deal!" Andrew said defensively.

"Please say you didn't buy anything…"

"…Um…okay then, I won't say it..."

Patrick dropped his head down on the coffee table and began lightly banging it. "No! Why'd you do that?"

"What's wrong?" Andrew looked confused.

"Let's just say you shouldn't eat the cookies. Let me see them." Patrick raised his head up.

"I'll get them," Pete volunteered. He planted his feet on the ground, pushed himself up, and promptly stumbled forward and onto the floor. Joe walked over and helped Pete back up. Upon standing back up, however, his legs gave out and he stumbled against Joe, who caught him and put him in the chair.

"What the _hell_?" Pete stared at his legs in shock. He looked over at Patrick, expecting him to explain.

"Don't forget The Baron's hand went through your spine…"

Pete sat back and pouted, crossing his arms. "Well then, what am I supposed to do? Sit here until my spine heals itself? Do you know how long that might take?"

"Longer if you have such a bad attitude."

"Shut up!"

"Look at this!" Andrew interrupted their conversation and held up a miniature black box. "This was in the cookie box. It looks like a camera."

"Or a microphone," Joe suggested.

"You know what I think it looks like?" Pete reached out his hand, signaling Andrew to let him see it. Andrew plopped it in his hand. "Dust!" Pete crushed it in his hand.

"I was going to study that!" Patrick commented.

"How about studying other, more worthwhile things? Like a cure, maybe?"

Patrick looked slightly guilty. "Yeah…I still haven't found any new information on that…"

"Nothing? Not like, a weird reaction or…new element or anything?"

Patrick looked down and shook his head. Pete crossed his arms again and looked around the room.

After about a minute of uncomfortable silence, Andrew smiled and stood up. "I think we need something…"

Joe closed his eyes. "You better not mean what I think you mean…"

Andrew grabbed Patrick and Joe and yanked them over to Pete. He drew all of them together. "Vampire Hunting Vigilante Group Hug!"

"Not again…" Joe groaned. Patrick just sighed.

Pete tried to wiggle out of Andrew's grip. "BOY, you are SO lucky I can't use my legs right now!"

* * *

**Hee...dream sequences are fun to write...I can do anything I want!**

**Let's thank our friend avatarjk137 for the action sequence!**

**And the results are in! Those of you who wanted a sequel, good for you. You're going to get one! In due time. Those of you didn't, TOUGH!** **New people...how twisty. **

**It's been lovely. I'd like to thank my reviewers: ricco-the-penguin, Mood-Apathetic, Thanagarian Angel, Squirt the Daydreamer, Bombalurinasara, greengreendress, angelofdragons, kadaj's-girl91, anyone who might review, anyone I may have forgotten, and anyone who's name I might have spelled wrong. Finally, I'd like to thank Fall Out Boy, for making such a whoop-ass music video that people would write fanfics about it for years to come.**


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